Falling Apart
by crackerjack45
Summary: America is falling to pieces. England offers they live together-just until he gets back on his feet. But how long will that really take? And England can't exactly protect Alfred from all the other countries either...
1. Chapter 1

America frowned, looking around the empty conference room. When the other person cleared their throat was when Alfred finally glared down the table at England. Arthur was looking uneasily out the window because he'd much rather watch the birds than witness America's horrible gaze. "Y-you didn't give me an answer, Al-"

"Maybe I don't want to answer," America said bitterly. England almost flinched at the hard scowl directed at him when he finally forced himself to look at the younger man.

"Oh come now, Alfred! You have-"

"Careful with your words England!" America snapped with a great emphasis on the word England. It was a warning. It meant this meeting was certainly not friendly.

Arthur winced that time. He knew the underlying meaning of the words. Alfred was trying to remind England he couldn't force America to do anything. He couldn't do it growing up and he definitely can't now.

"America," Arthur began slowly as he put his hands up as a sign of peace. He didn't want a huge argument. "Look-you don't have a choice. You're going to die-"

"I'll be fine! It's just a rough patch!" Alfred's arguments were bleak because he was well aware of his situation. He just didn't like Arthur's suggestion.

England pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. When he spoke he kept his tone slow and even, "Come now, America. This is more than a rough patch. Your people are killing each other and you are getting more and more sick as they drain your resources-"

"I've gotten out of it before haven't I?" Alfred's voice was rising into an angry yell. He couldn't accept his fate just yet. Not yet.

"Yes, but this is a different time. Weapons are stronger and the rest of the world would love to take you over. Did you notice how everyone was eyeing you at the meeting?"

Even America couldn't deny how everyone watched him like a pack of wolves following a lost sheep. America was only getting weaker and Mexico had just gotten out of war with him. They only scraped by because Canada swooped in to help. It really hurt America's pride there... Much of Europe wanted to stay out of the short war because everyone thought it would figure itself out. However, when America was losing all their money and riots were breaking out to overthrow the government things were definitely getting out of hand. America barely ever had a chance to leave his home. He was hardly in any shape to travel or...do anything. It was breaking England's heart to watch America's slow downfall. But he hated watching the rest of the countries talk about going to war and taking over-especially the Russian. And that bastard frog had been eyeing America since the boy was a colony. England had to be sure America was protected. Protected by his ex-older brother especially.

"America... It won't be forever-"

"How do you know?"

England could hear the wavering uncertainty in Alfred's voice but he promised to ignore that. "Once your country gets back on its feet...everything will be fine. Just-we'll help you get there." Arthur dared take a step towards America this time, walking very slowly around the table. "Live with me for a while. We'll help you-"

Alfred didn't openly say anything but the intensity of his glare was enough to cut England off. After a moment his eyes softened and he looked almost in pain. He dropped down in a chair and stared off into space. "I don't want to," he said finally. A weak argument but he stopped yelling at least.

"Yes, well, we've all done things we don't want to do. I'll give you some time to talk it over with your boss. Just let me know your decisions." Arthur tried not to smirk knowing he had won. America might not like it but he knew it was pointless for him to argue anymore. England had won this small battle.

It was quite some time before America spoke. He was staring deeply at the table before him and this silence was making Arthur feel incredibly awkward. He cleared his throat again hoping for a reaction from America. Anything would do.

"You know my people aren't going to like it."

England glanced at him briefly and went back to buttoning his cuffs. "Well that's something they'll have to get used to. Not everyone will like your decisions." It was rare if the people of any country agreed on what was best.

"They'll rebel," America went on. His voice sounded on the brink of panic. "What it they split up? England, I don't want the confederacy back."

Arthur paused and he stared at the wall across from him. The confederacy... No, England certainly hadn't thought of that. They both knew some Americans were still in disagreement over the Civil War. There were very few of them but they did exist. Only took one spark to start a fire. England tried to ease America's mind with a cool smile. "Oh, they won't. They'll see. This is what's best."

"Yes but no one will be happy that America is under the rule of the British Empire again. Everyone's desperate. They'll lose faith in me."

England rolled his eyes again. One could forget how young America really was until he said something like that. "Well of course, America. It's the cycle of things. Besides, things are different now. It's the 21st century not the 1700s. You need to learn to make decisions that are difficult even if your people won't like you for them."

America sighed. He was still afraid of the confederacy. CSA was a bully, if nothing else. He almost beat Alfred completely and the United States would have been divided but luckily, that never happened. That was around the time England was ignoring Alfred. He didn't want to talk to his former colony. He wanted Alfred to see what it was like dealing with his first crisis. Becoming a country wasn't all fun and games-Arthur wanted Alfred to experience the pain and hard labor it took. Maybe then he'd take things a little more seriously.

"I'll talk to my boss," America said finally and stood up to his full height. He hardly looked tall at all, anymore. The brown jacket he always wore looked like it was weighing him down but as always, Alfred held his head high like the proud boy he was.

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><p><strong>AN: Ah-ps, I don't know very much about history or politics so I'm sort of going with small knowledge I know. Its also set more into the further future so-yes. **


	2. Chapter 2

It had been nearly a week without a word from the American. England felt as if he had the news on every day to be sure nothing had gone horribly wrong across the ocean. Of course, it was the same rioting nonsense with the country falling into shambles. Arthur was at least hoping for some word that America teamed with England…but he realized the news station would not be aware of this until he was told first.

Though he couldn't be sure until that bloody git finally gave him an answer.

Deciding there was nothing particularly interesting on the television; Arthur was making himself a cup of tea when an insanely obnoxious knock was heard at his door.

"Give me a minute!" he called as he was setting the heat on the stove for his tea pot. The knocking persisted though, almost louder this time like the person purposely wanted to irritate the man. England muttered some curses and tromped over. "Alright, alright! I'm coming!" When he opened his front door, all annoyances melted away. Arthur was not expecting to see Alfred standing there with his luggage thrown over his shoulder lazily. He had his signature jacket on, his clothes looked disheveled like he had just escaped a brawl and Texas was almost falling off his nose.

"… Oh. America. Come in…" Arthur stepped aside, letting the younger country walk past him with a hard frown plastered on his face. England really wished he would smile. Alfred's smile could really brighten up a room. "I thought you would call-"

"Well, you seemed so sure of your plan I assumed you would already know I was coming," America snapped. It was unnecessary but he didn't want to admit how much he hated being here. It brought back so many memories.

Alfred fought tooth and nail to make his boss change his mind-at first Alfred was sure that his boss despised the idea too. He seemed to be as angry over the suggestion as the country. However, his boss was slowly beginning to warm up to the idea. England was strong, he said. England could take care of us for the time being. America felt so alone. Was he the only one who still had any pride left? Was his boss really asking America to go crawling back to England asking for help in this silly situation? He even brought up the nation being split in half. His boss said the same thing-it was silly. That would certainly not happen. After being told to speak with England again, Alfred refused and put it off as long as he could. He was not going to stoop down and ask for permission into England's home and openly admit he needed help. No, no. He was going to show up when England least expected it and prove he was still a hero and England was being graced with his presence.

The tea whistled just in time to break the awkward silence that had started brewing in between them. Arthur rushed into the kitchen to retrieve it all the while calling to Alfred over his shoulder, "Would you like some tea? I think I made just enough for a second cup."

Alfred looked around the house that he grew up as a child. It was a bit different with a few traces of the past. "Nostalgic bastard," he muttered under his breath. Not that he was one to talk. He called back a no thanks and made his way up the stairs to the guest room. He had been in England's house plenty of times for visits and work but it was different now. This time it was his temporary home. He looked at everything a bit more bitterly than before. The pictures on the wall that were covered in a layer of dust from when he was a child, a cracked windowsill that was never fixed after he jumped on it when he was a kid, the ship model hanging in a doorway as a reminder of England's pirating days. Tiny Alfred was told that story a million times and even tried taking that ship into the bath tub with him when it was time to wash up. His lips almost smiled at the memory but they immediately dropped back to a frown when he reached the guest room. His old bedroom.

Inside was very plain and dull. _Just like England_, he thought to himself. The walls were still a light blue from when he was a boy and he was sure that was the same bookshelf at the corner only with different books stacked inside. The floorboards still creaked and groaned in the same places as they always had. Memories flooded back to him as he looked at all the scratches and scuffs he remembered making when he was little from when he played countless hours in this room. The differences were the lack of a toy chest, the newly painted dresser and wardrobe and no longer were there any painting hanging on the wall. The bed was modern and looked like it was never used before since there was a very thin layer of dust on the comforter and pillow. It was a regular lamp and alarm clock beside the bed where he used to keep all his pencils and candles. The mirror sitting behind the dresser looked like it could use a good scrubbing and Alfred really wondered how often England even had visitors stay the night. Must be quite a lonely old man.

"Ah, you found it. Good," Arthur appeared in the doorway with tea cup in hand as he watched America study the surroundings.

Alfred turned his head to look at Arthur but his expression was unreadable. His face mouth was set in a straight line and he wasn't even staring at America when he spoke. Alfred assumed he was just lost in a far off memory. Dude could never quite let the past go.

America nodded anyway, looking back at his surroundings. "'Course I did. It never moved from last I was in here," he remarked but his tone was much softer this time. Perhaps all this reminiscing was getting to his head too.

"Well. Once you've gotten yourself settled come down stairs. I think we need to talk about the current situation. Soon everyone will know you are here and they will surely be knocking on our door-"

"Your door," America corrected.

It tripped up Arthur momentarily. "Eh, yes. My door. As I was saying, they'll be coming here to investigate. Surely they'll want to know what's going on and there might be some alarm but I hardly think anyone will blow this out of proportion."

Alfred nodded solemnly and when he looked back at England he suddenly seemed twice as tired as when he arrived. "Right…right. Well. Would you mind if I just took a nap, then? It…it's been a long trip."

Once again Arthur found himself pausing. "Oh. Yes, of course. We've got plenty of time later. Just get yourself settled and…I'll be in the living room."

The corner of Alfred's lips upturned into a very sad smile that nearly broke Arthur's heart but he returned the gesture nonetheless.

On the couch, he could barely keep his hand steady because of all the thoughts buzzing through his mind at once. He didn't get any time to prepare for America's arrival-there was certainly not enough food in the house to support his appetite. The bedroom needed a hardy cleaning and no one was even aware of his presence except England.

A wicked smirk crept across Arthur's face when he came across that thought. That's right… No one knew Alfred was in his home. No one knew the agreement the two had come up with save for their bosses and even those two couldn't be sure Alfred was here. Arthur played with the idea of keeping it all a big secret. He could keep Alfred to himself again. His sweet little Alfred could be all his once more.

Arthur shook his head. He couldn't do that... In fact, he should probably go talk to his boss right now. Yes, he had told Alfred he would wait until the boy woke up but he didn't think it would be wise to wait any longer. Besides, who knew how long Alfred would be out?

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><p>It was several hours before America woke up again. He was a little delirious and forgot where he was for a moment; he couldn't quite recall the last time he slept so well and really didn't want to admit he felt a bit better being in England's house. It gave him a nice sense of security that reminded him when he was a little boy growing up. Quickly he shook his head to get those pestering thoughts out of his mind. Couldn't let Arthur think Alfred enjoyed staying with him. With a yawn and a lazy stretch, Alfred was tromping down the stairs being greeted with the blaring sound of a reporter talking about something he couldn't really make out from the top steps. When he reached the landing Alfred noticed England staring intently at the television with his tea cup in hand.<p>

"And it's been announced England and America have joined together. Other countries seem to be-" England heard Alfred creak on the floor boards and quickly shut the TV off. He turned and smiled at the other man, tilting his chin towards him. "Hello, America. Are you feeling any better?"

Alfred grunted but didn't answer him. "What was that on the news?" he asked. If everyone knew where he was then he'd really like to know how because he purposely tried to keep it secret.

"Just...news," Arthur answered with a small smile. "The world knows your living here now."

"But... I didn't want anyone to," Alfred piped. His expression was hard and stubborn but Arthur just rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, America. Don't be so stupid. We can't keep this a secret. We were going to have to tell everyone eventually. The world needs to know. I need to-..." He almost blurted out "protect you"; luckily stopped himself. Instead, Arthur cleared his throat and nodded for Alfred to follow him into the kitchen. "Come. I made dinner."

If Alfred wasn't so damn hungry he would have declined. He followed from a distance as he brooded miserably. "You really didn't have the right."

"Actually, I did," England commented. "You are in my house, part of my territory-"

"Temporarily."

"Yes, temporarily. I initiated the invite. You accepted. I had every right to let the people know you were here. It didn't take long for me to realize no one else actually knew where you had gone. Honestly, Alfred, you can't just disappear on everyone like that." England shook his head and frowned considerably as he laid a plate in front of America. He just stared at it angrily.

"Alfred, stop being so bitter. This is to help you. In fact, if you weren't so irresponsible than-"

Alfred slammed his fist against the table and Arthur saw a short crack form where his fist struck. "Oh? I bet it was my irresponsibility that caused me to win wars. Or that helped get us out of depression. Or helped us spread democracy." He lifted one eye brow, showing off a cocky smile. "And I suppose my irresponsibility was what made us gain independence from the powerful British Empire."

England frowned deeply. Alfred may not have been feeling well but that was no reason to be so rude. "In retrospect, yes. It was irresponsible." With that the conversation was over. Best not to get into an argument over this now. The awkward silence was building between them and Arthur excused himself into the next room to cool down before returning to the dinner table. He was just trying to help the stupid brat. America didn't have to be so testy. He could be trying to forcefully take him over and gain control over America once again. That should be worth something. Well maybe...that wouldn't be such a bad idea. When will England get this chance again? If he took over America he could be powerful again just like-

No, no, no. That wouldn't be right. He and Alfred were on good terms even if it was a little strained. There was no need to take advantage of the poor boy because of such a rough patch. For god's sake he wasn't France.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I really want to thank you guys so much for stopping to review and read this! (or just stopping to read this at all~!) Honestly, I wasn't sure anyone would like it! Thank you! Also-apologies, this chapter is a bit short. Next one will be longer!

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><p>The rest of the evening they ate in silence save for the occasional "pass the salt" (which, let's face it, was certainly needed) or "could you hand me that bowl?" It wrenched at Arthur's heart to know Alfred was feeling so glum about living with him. Why couldn't the idiot just be grateful? Anyone else would be thanking him. He opened his home to broken country out of the goodness of his heart and Alfred couldn't even smile at him. All he wanted was a smile. It would be enough. Just a small token to know he was doing something right for him.<p>

But Alfred, on the other hand, couldn't. It was his pride and his freedom. He felt like it was taken from him and he wasn't even sure who to blame. His people who were being so stupid, his boss for going on with this plan or England for even suggesting such a thing? America loved his freedom. He never wanted to be tied down and now he found himself in the clutches of the man he had so desperately won it from. He had worked so hard to get where he is now. It took years and countless tries and finally he had made it to the top where he was strong and powerful but then…it had all gone wrong. Where had it all gone wrong? At what point? How did he even get into this situation? It killed him inside knowing that he wasn't free now and he was so unsure of how long this would even last. He was just trying to keep his hopes up that England would not keep him forever this time. Even if he had to go into another war he would not be held here. So he was planning on staying distant from the man and proving he was here by choice. It was a sign that England will never hold his freedom.

"Alfred," England finally broke the silence when he stood up to clear the table. "While you were asleep I took the liberty in buying some of your favorite foods." He looked away disdainfully when Alfred raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I just thought…since you'll be staying here I might as well make you feel at home. So there's ice cream and sweets in the fridge if you want some desert or snacks. But you can't pig out! It's disgusting and unhealthy."

The corner of Alfred's mouth upturned into a genuine smile. It was small but it was enough for Arthur. To keep from staring, Arthur snatched up Alfred's plate and walked off while mumbling something about not cleaning up after himself.

"…thanks," Alfred said quietly. He was very surprised that Arthur had taken the time to try to be hospitable. He sort of assumed the older nation would take advantage of the situation. England on the other hand was also taken off guard especially since he was completely unaware America's voice could possibly be so quiet. Even as a child the boy didn't know how to whisper.

Arthur grunted and waved from behind his shoulder. "It's nothing. You can go watch TV or something. I'll just be cleaning up." Who knew the boy could show any kind of gratitude?

Alfred did take it upon himself to grab a hardy scoop of ice cream and drop it in his bowl before departing off to watch some television. He switched on the news-he didn't want to, but knew he really should.

"Some countries are meeting together to talk over the sudden alliance…" America sighed and rubbed his forehead. Were they still talking about him? And why are countries meeting together? This was becoming a bit of a headache.

Literally. Alfred realized in the back of his head was a deep throbbing. He decided to just ignore it and change the channel to some brain melting cartoons. Those always cheered him up.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Told you this chapter would be longer! I felt so bad, I decided to give you a two chapters! YAY!

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><p>Arthur peeked into the living room and shook his head. Of course. Of course Alfred was watching cartoons. God forbid the fool at least pretended to care about the rest of the world. Even though Arthur wanted to be sure America didn't hear how badly the other countries wanted him and was sure to keep him from finding out that their bosses were arguing bitterly over ground rules because the prime minister didn't want the American taking advantage of him and the president sure as hell wasn't going to bow to any damn queen because it was still America. No, Alfred could not hear those wretched, wretched things.<p>

But he could still try to, goddamn it.

His little Alfred (that nickname could hardly apply to the much larger nation but old habits die hard and all that) looked to be in his element with his bowl in hand, spoon sticking out of his mouth as his eyes seemed permanently glued to the television and laughing appropriately at the silly antics of the characters on screen. Arthur shook his head. That laugh was so irritating but it somehow always managed to lift his spirits. America was such a child even though he constantly insisted on being treated like an adult. England leaned his shoulder against the doorway that allowed him to see the profile of Alfred while remaining hidden in sight and smiled at the boy. He wanted to scoop Alfred up and hold him close-whether it was the feeling of nostalgia to keep Alfred safe in his arms or some different feelings that were bubbling to the surface, Arthur wasn't sure. Still, though. If he could just walk over there and comfort Alfred the way Arthur knew he needed comforting than he would be happy and Alfred would be happy because he loved attention too much not to be pleased. As he was gazing, he barely noticed the object of his daydreams was looking back at him with one perplexed eyebrow raised.

"What are you staring at?" Alfred asked sounding more curious than bitter even though he wasn't bothering to conceal his frown. Cartoons helped get your mind off important things but they couldn't stop Alfred from living in England's home.

England blushed considerably and stumbled over his words before he decided to snap back at America, "I wasn't staring at you, if that's what you're insinuating. I was simply lost in thought."

America's lips curled slightly in what could very well be disgust. "With the way your mouth was gaping open like that it was only simple to assume-"

"Oh don't get so snarky with me! You are in no position to talk back to me. Actually, you're hardly in any position to do just about anything!" He glared even after he saw how hurt America's sweet blue eyes were and after he realized how harsh he spoke, England continued standing his ground. Alfred, on the other hand, didn't argue. He merely turned his attention back to the television but he was not laughing anymore. The entire room filled with an eerie silence that England wished would go away. It was unbearably uncomfortable especially seeing as whenever America was in the room the walls would be reverberating with his loud obnoxious voice. Arthur had no choice but to leave since the atmosphere showed he was obviously not wanted and disappeared into his study for hours to pretend he was working when all he did was sit there brooding. All he wanted was to make America feel welcome and his attempts were all for naught. Arthur leaned back in the chair and sighed. He knew the fight was very silly and it was merely due to his own insecurities but as soon as he started up he couldn't stop! Damn his hotheadedness. It was always getting him into a mess. England glanced briefly at his office's closed door and contemplated going in to apologize-oh no. He couldn't. It would only boost America's already hugely inflated ego and that boy needed humility. So if his feelings were hurt, he would get over it. It wasn't like Alfred was made of pillows and kittens. He could handle anything-

Arthur stopped his own thoughts abruptly when he realized what he was doing. He was protecting little Alfred from all the cruelties of the world thinking that he was made of pillows and kittens. England groaned inwardly with his hand pressed against his eyes which ran all the way through his hair. "I'm the bloody fool," he mumbled. "I really shouldn't be such a hypocrite…" He still wasn't going to apologize.

Alfred laid back on the couch, ice cream bowl now abandoned on the coffee table in front of him. The cartoons were still playing but he was hardly paying any attention. He was thinking more about what England said-how he wasn't in any position to do anything. It was just another stupid reminder of how he failed as a country. All he could do now was just…sit around and do nothing. He had to hope for the best. America was a man of action-not a silly housewife who spent her days at home worrying what would happen tomorrow (all respect for housewives though) but in the end, Arthur was right. Alfred wasn't in any position to do much of anything at the moment. He wasn't even that angry with the other nation. If anything, he was angry at himself for letting it get so bad. He tried. America honestly tried. He just wished someone would see that.

When Alfred finally made his way up to bed, he didn't bother saying good night to England. He was still exhausted and that annoying throbbing in the back of his head was still persisting. At this point Alfred was more aware that it was just his people rioting and fighting back at home. If the headache became worse it would be cause of worry. He took some pills to calm the pain-more than a human could take. When you're a country, the regular two doses wouldn't do anything for an ache since it was usually the cause of a war or a rebellion or bad economy. Alfred pushed the door open and flopped down onto the bed without even changing out of his regular clothes before he was in a deep slumber.

The living room was silent, Arthur noticed. Actually, the whole house was silent. Where was Alfred? Arthur at least expected to hear Alfred walking around or searching the kitchen for more food but it wasn't until this moment that Arthur realized there had been no sound; save for the house settling. He left his study and saw the television was off and even though the couch was in disorder, everything else was in its rightful place.

Except America.

"America...?" England called out to the downstairs. He was nervous that maybe Alfred started feeling more himself and was hiding just so he could pop out and scare Arthur. "America, you better not be hiding!" When he received no answer, Arthur cautiously started up the stairs while softly calling Alfred's name. After glancing at the clock, he saw it was getting late so perhaps America went to sleep. When he reached the guest room at the end of the hall and gently nudged the door open, England felt a pang in his heart that Alfred didn't bother to mention he was going to bed. 'I'm being silly,' he thought to himself. 'Alfred is a grown man.'

Yes. Yes, Arthur was well aware how much older America had grown since he was his small colony. Although Arthur still wanted to protect young America, it wasn't always so much as a father figure as it was selfish. England wanted America for himself. No-Arthur wanted Alfred for himself in every sense of the word possible.

And yet the stupid boy couldn't even bother to change properly for bed.

Arthur tip-toed inside the room and looked down at Alfred's sleeping form. His entire body was sprawled out on the bed with his arms hugging his pillow and his head just slightly cocked to the side to allow his mouth to breathe. Arthur shook his head. "Git," he muttered under his breath as he took hold of Alfred's arm and pushed him onto his back. America hardly seemed bothered and merely groaned in his sleep. Arthur pried off Alfred's shoes and tossed them into a corner grumbling at how tacky the boy always dressed. Even when he was small he had no sense of fashion. Arthur did a once over of Alfred's body which was now curled in a fetal position with the young country letting out a soft snore. England's expression softened considerably at the sight. "You bloody oaf," he said affectionately. He swept a hand across Alfred's hair and dared himself to plant a kiss on the young man's forehead. Alfred grumbled something in his sleep then curled into an even smaller ball which caused a small chuckle from Arthur. He tilted his head then tsked. "Alfred, you can't be comfortable in that... You're absolutely ridiculous." Jeans were not the best thing to sleep in. The man could get a rash from that uncomfortable fabric rubbing his skin! After debating whether it'd be worth taking his pants off and leaving Alfred in boxers, England decided he'd let the other chaff to save his own skin from being smacked in the morning. Arthur tugged the blankets out from under Alfred's sleeping body and pulled it over the boy, tucking him in quite tight. "Good night, Alfred." Arthur laid another kiss on the top of America's head before he finally settling into his own bed for some shut eye.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I think I'm making Alfie too OOC. I'll try to be more careful next time!

**Edit: fixed my french! **

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><p>When the sun light streamed through Arthur's window, he decided it was time to greet the day as much as he did not want to get out of bed. His blankets just seemed so extra cozy this morning and he was about to fall back asleep when he heard the all too familiar sound of Alfred's laughter obnoxiously ringing throughout the rooms downstairs. Any other day he would angrily tell the American to shut up and let the rest of the world sleep because god knows even Australia could hear his loud voice, but today he was glad for the sound. Alfred hadn't laughed like that in a very long time and it was a small sign he was starting to feel better. England turned onto his side with a little grin feeling pleased as punch with himself but his eyes shot open when he heard a second laugh accompanying America's.<p>

As fast as his socked feet could take him, England was dashing down the steps and into the kitchen to witness his greatest fear unfold.

France.

Sitting at his table.

Eating.

With Alfred.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here, frog?" he spat as he gave France the coldest scowl he could muster.

"Good morning to you too, England," Francis greeted with a syrupy sweet voice that only made Arthur want to strangle him more. "I only wanted to visit little Alfred for breakfast. I know your food must be destroying his stomach…"

Arthur started to ignore France because he was too busy concentrating on Alfred's face. He was smiling? That stupid idiot was smiling and laughing along with everything France was saying-why? What drug did the goddamn frog put into America's coffee to make him think France's presence was a good thing?

And why the hell wouldn't Alfred smile for him?

"Well his cooking does suck," America started to say, "But I gotta give him props. He bought me all this food. I probably would have starved to death if he didn't pick up my favorite cereal!"

Arthur's shoulder's relaxed upon hearing this. Yes, well, at least he acknowledged the fact England was trying. Because he was trying. While keeping his eyes on France like the man was going to steal something, Arthur made himself a cup of tea and took a seat beside Alfred. "How long have you been awake?" he asked purposely disregarding the fact France even spoke.

Alfred shrugged and sipped from his mug. "A while. I fell asleep early so I woke up super early. I got so bored waiting around for you. Luckily France stopped by-"

"Speaking of-why are you here so early?"

Francis looked a bit taken aback that England finally addressed him. "Moi? Well as I was saying, I knew Alfred would have to be subjected to your slop and breakfast is the most important meal of the day, no? I thought the two of us could go out to get a proper meal to start the day." He watched America over the rim of his cup as he took a sip only letting his gaze flicker quickly to check Arthur's reaction.

Obviously Alfred was thrilled with the suggestion. "Oh yeah! Def-"

"Absolutely not," Arthur interjected, completely cutting off Alfred.

America looked frustrated, angry and even a little hurt. That was exactly what he was afraid of. England would want to document his every move and control every decision he made. "What? Why not?" he argued feeling his temper rise.

"America, don't be so foolish! This is France!" He gestured wildly to the third unwelcomed nation sitting at the table who was trying very hard to hide his smirk. "You can't trust any nation! He wants you all for himself!"

"France doesn't-"

But England rolled his eyes and cut off America again. "Don't be so naive! It's France for god's sake!"

"I can hear you-"

"Shut up frog, no one cares."

Alfred jumped up from his seat, practically knocking the chair over and slammed his palms on the table top. Arthur pretended not to notice another crack form through his table. If Alfred kept losing his temper, the furniture would surely break in half. "You know what England? You can't stop me. I'm going upstairs to get dressed and France and I are going out for breakfast!" With that he stormed away to the guest room.

Arthur whipped his head around, large eyebrows furrowed angrily. "This is all your fault!" he barked bitterly to France. "He's behaving like a spoiled teenager!"

"Ah, maybe that is because you are treating him like one, petit Angleterre. You can't trap him here forever." France raised a knowing eyebrow while taking a delicate sip from his teacup.

England faltered a moment then shook his head. "Don't be stupid. I'm doing nothing of the sort! It's my job to protect him-"

"Non."

"What?"

"Non. It means no in-"

"I know what it means, idiot!"

France suppressed a chuckle and continued on, "It is not your job to protect him. You need to let go of the past, mon cher. While he is living here our dear America can very well take care of himself. He doesn't need you."

Francis was probably unaware of the sting that last sentence held. _He doesn't need you._ No, of course Alfred didn't need him.

"I know that," he growled. "I'm not...I just..." England sighed and combed his hands through his hair. He wasn't sure how to word his feelings out loud and he sure as hell was not about to have a heart to heart with France.

Luckily, Francis could already tell how the old country felt. It wasn't like this was a big secret either. "Tu l'aime."

Arthur's face turned a brilliant shade of red at the comment. He certainly couldn't deny it but that damn frog didn't have to be so blunt about it! Some subtly would be nice every now and then. "That is definitely not it! I mean, well to a certain extent yes. I did raise the boy so it's not like I can hate him. He's like a son to me-"

France let out a soft laugh which promptly stopped England's rambling and he received a lovely glare from the other man. "Angleterre, it is very clear you have not thought of him as a son in a very long time. In fact, I don't think you ever did. If memory serves, you wanted a little brother and no one was going to take him away. Isn't it funny that the one person you tried to protect ended up leaving you anyway?" France chuckled again and looked in his cup with a frown at the fact his tea was all out.

"What are you getting at, frog?" England asked feeling less than happy at everything his unwelcomed guest was saying. The revolution was far in the past but France's words still stung.

"If you want to keep Alfred, you can't be so controlling of him. Take care of him but don't suffocate him."

"I never suffocated him," England muttered. He took a small sip of his tea and grimaced when he realized it had turned cold. "All I ever did was care for him." Arthur stood up and snatched France's cup. "I'm not talking about this with you. Is that why you're here? To lecture me?"

"Ah!" France perked up immediately and turned around in his chair so he could watch England put the cups away. "Oui, I also came to warn you. Russia is on the move, I heard. I don't know how long it will take for him to get here but he wants America. Japan too-though he won't admit it. Kiku is buying his time. He was always the more sensible one."

At that moment Alfred came bounding down the stairs with a huge smile on his face like he forgot all about yelling at England. Probably did. The boy barely noticed his host's mouth gaping wide from this new found information. "I'm ready France!" he said happily.

France stood up and opened his arms to wound around Alfred's shoulder. "Oui, oui mon chaton! I have a car out front to take us to a lovely restaurant. Go on ahead, I'll be right there."

Alfred nodded and was already running out the door waving good bye to England who slapped his mouth shut and reached out to stop America. "B-b-but-! Wait! Al-America!"

"We won't be long, England! You can cook some shitty biscuits for me when I get home," he called from the door before he was out of sight.

France looked back at England still smiling cheerfully. "I would invite you along, England but I'm afraid I only made reservations for two."

"So that was it?" England growled dropping the teacups into the sink though he was sure one broke. "To warn me of other countries? I was already aware of that! And what are you getting out of this by taking America to breakfast? I know this isn't out of the goodness of your heart!"

"Because, Arthur," France dipped his finger into England's shirt collar and tugged him too close to his smiling face. "I want America's trust. You seem to forget sometimes I am also a threat."

A fist met Francis's face in a painful punch that had him stumbling backward and clutching at his head. "Don't you dare!" England shouted as France held his bleeding nose and was making a dash for the door. "Francis! I swear to god I will kill you-!"

France was laughing as he pushed open the door and waved his good bye with his one free hand-the other now holding a handkerchief to his nose. "Au revoir, Angleterre! Et faites attention à votre amour-américain!" He had shut the door before the teacup that smashed to pieces against the wall could hit his face.

They arrived at a very fine restaurant-much too fine for Alfred's taste but if he was getting free food he wasn't about to complain. Plus, it was nice to get out somewhere. With everything being in such a mess at home he hardly had time to go anywhere except for business and it seemed by the way things were going that England wasn't about to let him go anywhere, either. He all but ordered out the restaurant with everything he asked for breakfast. France just watched him eat; amused at all he could fit in that stomach. They carried on with casual conversation, something light for the mood although that is a little difficult to do when you're a country. France spoke of his lovely women and America talked about some good movies that he thought up. They tried to have normal talks until Alfred was just finished eating and Francis couldn't dodge the subject anymore.

"Alfred, tell me, are you enjoying your stay at England's home?" he questioned while wiping at his mouth with one of the fancy napkins.

America tightened his jaw and paused with his fork half way to his mouth. He gulped down the food and gave a halfhearted shrug. "I dunno... I mean it's only been two days. He's England. He's kind of an ass but he tries."

"Mm...You think?" If France was going to win America over he had to break his relationship with England.

"Y...yeah. Why? He's rough around the edges but I mean. C'mon. It's England. He's completely harmless." He laughed lightly and gulped down his soda.

France realized how much America underestimated England. "Are you sure, mon chaton? England has done many things in his glory days. He isn't one to-"

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. But that's the past. England spends his days sewing and reading books by the fire. His exciting days are when I come over!"

Well, he was almost correct on that count. "But Alfred, this is England." France reached over the table and grasped America's hand between his noting how rough the skin felt as opposed to the soft plump flesh it looked. "Aren't you afraid he will want to take you over again? Steal your freedom now that you're vulnerable?"

Yes. Horrified. But it was just England. The man who raised America since he was a child. He read him stories to bed and comforted him when he was scared and bought him new clothes and made him toy soldiers. Arthur may be powerful but Alfred believed he was stronger.

"Well, I beat him once before. I could do it again," he said confidently.

France sighed softly. The boy was still so young. "Oui, you have. But, America, you are so weak. You can only protect yourself for so long. Vivre avec moi. Je vais vous soigner."

However, at that moment, Alfred's pounding headache came back tenfold. It spread throughout the back of his skull and exploded in his temples. Suddenly the lights became too bright, the music was too loud and he certainly could not translate what France had just said in his native tongue. He pressed his palms against his forehead and made a horribly pained face as he put his head against the table. Francis stood from his chair and went to his side in fear something had gone wrong.

"Alfred? Are you alright?" Despite wanting to possibly take over America, Francis was very worried for him. He looked to be in real pain and America hardly ever seemed to be hurting this bad.

"Yeah," Alfred croaked from underneath his hands. "Headache. France...can you take me back to England's...?"

"Of course, of course!" France stood up and waved to the waiter who was already staring at the scene that had just unfolded at the table. "Monsieur! Check please!" He leaned back down to Alfred and gently rubbed his back cooing softly in his ear, "Don't worry, mon chaton, I will get you home..."

America was resting in bed, a cold cloth on his forehead and the covers tucked tightly around his body while France and England conversed in the living room quietly so not to disturb him.

"What happened?" England asked without even bothering to hide his genuine concern.

"Je ne sais pas. One minute we were enjoying a wonderful conversation and the next moment he's keeling over in pain." France shook his head like it was such a pity to witness America go through so much inner torment. They all experienced it at one point-it was about time Alfred felt the hardship too. Still, though. It was troubling to see it happen to lovely America.

It was a moment before England finally spoke again and let his gaze rise up to the ceiling where Alfred's room surely was. "He is sick. His people are killing one another and his government is being destroyed. It could have been anything that caused it."

There was silence between the two of them for a long time before France spoke again hardly above a whisper. "You can't let America die, Arthur."

"... I think it's time for you to return home, France."

"Oui. Au revoir, Angleterre."

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><p><strong>An: **Translation:

Tu l'aime-You love him.

Oui, oui mon chaton!-yes, yes, my kitten!

Au revoir, Angleterre! Et faites attention à votre amour-américain-Good bye England! And watch out for your American love!

Vivre avec moi. Je vais vous soigner: Live with me. I will take care of you.

Je ne sais pas: I do not know.

I used Google and a friend for the most part of these translations so I hope they're right. If not, please let me know!

I don't know why but I love the idea of France calling America mon chaton-not as a sexual way but it was his nickname when he was little so it always stuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks for correcting my French Yamino Tenshi 202! Since I really don't even have a clue…

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><p>America nearly slept a whole 24 hours. He woke up at dinner time the day before but seemed to be in a trance like state and hardly spoke at all besides a few grunts asking if there was anything to eat. England accommodated him accordingly to a few small things to eat and a handful of pills to ease the pain then helped him back to bed with some milk and a cool wash cloth for his head.<p>

Now Alfred was fully awake, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision and noticed England in the room picking up some clothes that were strewn about the floor.

"Sup, Artie?" he greeted sleepily.

Arthur's back was still turned to him but Alfred could tell by the tone of his voice he was grimacing. "I spent all that time teaching you grammar and this is how you talk?" He turned around with a pile of clothes in hand and shook his head causing Alfred to chuckle softly at the sight.

"You didn't have to clean that."

A corner of Arthur's mouth twitched at the quiet laugh from America though he quickly turned it to a frown. "You're so bloody lazy I had no idea how long you would sleep for. Might as well make something of my time while I wait. There's some food in the kitchen if you're hungry," he said quickly and scurried back downstairs to do the laundry. Alfred smiled to himself and reached out for Texas that should have been sitting at his bedside table, though when he went to grab it, there was nothing.

"Hm? Musta fallen." He swung his feet around while keeping his eyes peeled for the glasses on the floor. No luck. He searched under the bed and was beginning to panic. Where was Texas?

He practically tore apart the bedrooms before Alfred pounded down the stairs and found Arthur in the laundry room folding clothes. "England! Have you seen Texas?"

Arthur glanced at Alfred briefly though he could still tell the panic in Alfred's voice mimicked the look on his face. "It's on your table," he answered calmly.

"It's not there!"

Arthur pretended he didn't notice how high pitched the young man's voice became. It almost reminded him of the colonial days. "Calm down, America. They probably fell-"

"No! I can't find them anywhere!"

"Relax, relax. Are you sure you just didn't look hard enough?"

"Yeah! They aren't anywhere!"

Arthur blinked and grabbed his sleeve, tugging him into the living room and sat him down on the couch. "I'll call France. Maybe he saw them." As Arthur dialed and talked on the other end Alfred was fidgeting around nervously.

England hung up the phone, shaking his head. "No, France said he never took them off until he brought you here. Are you sure they aren't just under your bed?"

"I checked! I can't lose them! Its Texas!"

"I heard you the first time. They'll turn up. Try not to panic too much in the meantime." Arthur nodded towards the kitchen. "Come. I have some lunch. I know you must be hungry." Alfred gave a soft whimper and trudged sluggishly after his host. He was very worried that his glasses were missing. It wasn't like some cheap dollar store frame-it was Texas. He can't very well be the United States of America if he lost one of the states.

Arthur glanced at Alfred who dropped heavily into a kitchen chair. "Don't worry, Alfred. They'll turn up. We'll just have to keep our eye out. I made you some grilled cheese and soup. You like that right?" He pushed a bowl and plate in front of Alfred and he looked it over with his eyebrows up.

"...Is this canned soup?"

Arthur bristled. "And? What if it is?"

Alfred smiled and took a spoonful. "It's not poisonous. I guess you can't really do canned soup wrong. Though the grilled cheese does look like charcoal." He was met with a swift smack to the back of his head and Arthur's face glaring down at him.

"You don't have to eat it you know!"

"Ow! You aren't very nice to me in my time of need!"

"Oh now you want pity?" Arthur may care for Alfred but he certainly knew how to get on his nerves.

"No-but you could still be hospitable!"

"Hospitable?" Arthur snapped angrily. "Listen idiot! I'm trying to protect you from the rest of the world and I open my home for you and you complain about bloody-"

As Arthur was getting heated up, Alfred let out a sharp gasp and clutched at the side of his head. Arthur could tell this wasn't a ploy. Alfred never made a face like if he was just kidding.

"America...are you alright?" he asked, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch his back gently.

Alfred gave the best smile he could muster even with the pain that shot through his head. "Yeah...I'm fine, England."

England frowned sadly and pulled a seat beside America while gently rubbing a hand over his back. "Alfred... You know you can ask for help. You don't always have to take care of things yourself."

America grunted with his eyes squeezed shut trying to filter out as much light and noise as possible.

England sighed and continued, "You know...you know other countries are coming for you? Probably not. You're so damn oblivious. France wanted you. That's why he was here."

"N'he di'n't," Alfred mumbled still not completely comprehending everything England was saying. He was sure that he was insulted at one point...

"Yes he did, idiot. Russia's coming-" England could tell his voice was rising slowly. It was a mix of anger at America's stupidity and fear someone was going to hurt his Alfred. He attempted to even out his tone. "-Russia's coming. I don't know when. But I secured all the locks. Hopefully that will do some good... And Japan is going to come. I have no idea when or-"

Alfred's eyes shot open. "Japan?"

"Yes... Yes, France said Japan is biding his time. Possibly waiting until you are even sicker," he said softly.

"No..." America just shook his head slowly so not to aggravate his headache any more. "No, Kiku is my best friend. He wouldn't."

England looked upon America with great sympathy. Still just a naive boy. "There are no such thing as friends when it comes to politics."

Alfred buried his face into his hands like the darkness would stop all of this. "Kiku is my friend," he repeated, getting a bit louder.

"Alfred I know but Japan is becoming more powerful and could benefit severely from your resources and-"

"Kiku is my friend!" Alfred was shouting now much to his brain's dismay.

Arthur was taken aback and at first was sitting there with his mouth hanging open then frowned deeply. "It doesn't matter Alfred! You're weak! You're sick! Do you think Japan cares about how many drinks you two had together? Countries are forming new alliances, strengthening their armies because the world could go to shit pretty damn quick! Right now it's not about friendship-it's about winning. Do you understand? Can you get that through your thick skull?"

Silence filled the house rather fast and the only sound heard was a soft chirping of birds singing to one another in the trees as the wind teased the branches. Alfred still had his face buried in his hands and Arthur just realized he was standing. There was something wet that caught the light gliding down Alfred's cheek. England let his muscles relax that he now noticed were tense. He wished he hadn't yelled. He wished he never said anything. He wanted to take it all back and tell Alfred everything would be okay and wrap him in his arms then kiss him gently to promise tomorrow would be better. He still wanted to protect Alfred. As big as Alfred was, Arthur felt the need to keep him safe.

"What about you?"

"Huh…?" Arthur almost didn't hear Alfred speak.

"I said…"America removed his hands from his face in such a way that wiped away his tears too but Arthur pretended not to notice. "What about you? We're friends… How can I trust you?"

England bit his bottom lip and stared down at Alfred. Arthur couldn't very tell America the truth because the truth was he wasn't sure he could trust England. Was England really going to be able to let America go when the time called for it? Of course he couldn't let Alfred know that. "It's different with us," he said after finally settling on an answer. "We go a little bit deeper than friendships."

Alfred seemed to mull over that answer in his mind. "Then why can't I trust France?" he asked with his gaze still on the table. His head was still pounding (no thanks to England) but it wasn't as bad as it had been.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly at the very thought and spluttered his answer, "B-because it's France! That's why! I don't want that damn frog in my house! It's an insult to everything I am!"

"But technically I could trust him?" He shrugged a shoulder and folded his arms. "I mean, it is just France. He wouldn't want to hurt me."

"Well I don't know. He might go after you just to spite me."

"Why?"

"Because he's a git."

"No, why would it be to spite you?"

England hesitated a moment then furrowed his brow in a frown. "Just...because. France knows how to piss me off."

America let the side of his mouth twitch into a soft smile. "Yeah, well so do I. You aren't really making much sense, England… Does France want me or not?"

"France wants everyone," he grumbled miserably. "He…Alfred, you know I care about you. As much of a moron you are, you're still…" He gulped and looked at his shoes. Ho boy this was embarrassing… "You're still kind of important to me. We've always been close. And I'm strong. So it just seems logical that you come here. Who else would you move in with?"

"I don't know… France?"

Arthur could feel his blood start to boil. "Would you fucking leave France out of this?" he shouted and he realized that Alfred was actually giggling. "Stop laughing!"

Alfred held his hand to his mouth as he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Seeing you all flustered is priceless. But yeah, I know. We're close and all that. But what does this have to do with France?"

Arthur felt his face heat up but not just from anger. Was America this much of an idiot? How could he not understand what he was saying? Arthur all but confessed to him and he was completely oblivious. "Be-because…" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm going to finish the laundry. Clean up after yourself alright?" Leaving a very confused Alfred, Arthur walked off into the other room to finish cleaning. Sometimes that boy was hopeless.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Eh, I'm not sure I'm really crazy about this chapter buuut it had to be done. It took forever to write because I had so much stuff to do this weekend.. Ah well…


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** So I'm most likely going to be changing the rating to M in later chapters. But if you guys are against any of that I'll try to keep it T!

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><p>It had been two boring days of England's awful cooking, tons of junk food and constant pounding headaches that rattled America's brain like a freight train speeding down a track. He mostly sat around eating sweets with a cold cloth draped over his face and the TV on low with Arthur sewing or reading books beside him. Arthur was always beside him. Alfred thought little of it because he did appreciate the attention he was getting from his temporary caretaker. England was actually being rather kind to him. He cooked-albeit, the food was borderline deadly but Alfred was used to it by now-he kept America's boss at bay and even went so far as to keep cartoons on at all times. Though often Arthur griped and complained about America never paying attention to the rest of the world. This was important, he said. It will determine America's fate but Alfred refused to listen because he had enough nightmares at night about his people being slaughtered on the streets by one another. There was hardly any work to be done either. Alfred started noticing the decline of paperwork and phone calls from his boss due to all the chaos at home. When things were getting too serious Alfred noticed even England would try to shield Alfred from the horrors. That he appreciated. Though America couldn't help but recall how England said Russia was coming along with Japan waiting his opportunity to strike. Alfred didn't keep in touch with anyone this week but Arthur was almost constantly on the phone to speak with other countries and his boss. Sometimes the conversations were civil but there were times Arthur shut the door to his study and angry shouts could be heard down the hall. If Alfred wasn't so exhausted over his headaches and the nightmares he was having, he would be irritated at how much he knew his host was keeping from him. If it concerned the United States wouldn't it be fair to let America know? However, there was one country who Alfred was allowed to talk to and that was his dear brother Canada.<p>

Yes, Matthew did call to talk to Alfred to just chat about hockey or the weather. Anything that would ease his twin's mind. It was the only other contact from outside world England would allow (France did ask for him over the phone but Arthur just stopped answering.) It was another thing that Alfred should be annoyed at; seeing Arthur control who he speaks with and does not speak with, but Alfred was getting too sick to care.

It was this particular afternoon where both men were sitting around being very laid-back with Arthur sewing as he hummed a gentle tune that Alfred recognized from his childhood and the other lying on the couch with an arm flung over his face to desperately try to catch up on his sleep. Arthur stopped his task only to glance at the clock and note it was about time to think about dinner. He made his way to the kitchen and checked his cupboard and refrigerator with a rather loud sigh.

"You ate all the food, Alfred. I'm going to have to get some more," he called into the other room as he snatched up his coat and car keys. It seemed all Alfred did these days was eat due to how restless he was getting. Arthur felt slightly guilty for keeping him locked up all hours of the day but it was for his own good. Someone could harm sweet Alfred.

"Mm," came a grunt from the boy who only wished Arthur would stop talking so loud. "Can you bring back another bottle of painkillers? …or ten?"

Arthur stepped into the living room and gazed at Alfred sadly. "Alright I'll be back soon," he promised. Before leaving he turned off the only remaining light and left Alfred in the wonderfully dark silence of the house.

Alfred may have fallen asleep, though he couldn't remember when or for how long. He just knew there was a painfully loud knock at the front door that mimicked the throbbing in his temples. He wasn't sure if the pain or the banging woke him up first.

_This better be the apocalypse,_ he thought miserably as he unlocked the door and yanked it open. If he wasn't awake, America sure as hell was now.

"Pryvet, comrade."

Russia was giving a chilling grin that shook America right down to his core. Those violet eyes had a crazy glint that sent an involuntary shiver down Alfred's spine.

"England is out," America growled immediately setting his shoulder's back.

Russia raised an eyebrow and giggled softly. "Ah-well that's alright. I came to see you anyway."

Alfred gulped and wished he hadn't said anything. He tried to slam the door shut but Russia was stronger than America remembered and the frightening country had pushed the door open, almost breaking it off the hinges. Alfred stumbled backwards, momentarily letting his fear show on his face but quickly covered it with a defensive scowl.

Russia clapped his hands behind his back and slowly stepped towards the man that was now bracing himself for a fight. Ivan tried stifling another giggle. "Was that American hospitality? Or would it now be English? Since you now live under England's-"

"I'm still America!" Alfred snapped. He felt a pang at his heart at what Russia was insinuating. He was still America. Wherever he was or whatever happens he will always be America.

Russia's smile only grew. "Da, I am aware..." Russia slowly removed his gloves while keeping his violet eyes locked on Alfred's strong blue orbs. Even so broken and weak America was still so proud. "But you might not be for long."

Alfred tilted his head in confusion. Panic was starting to wiggle its way through him and he started taking more steps back, trying to stay clear of backing into a wall. "What?"

"You have said you are America, da? Your strength and power is legendary. Who wouldn't want to bottle up all the wonders that is America...?" He was closer than Alfred realized so he jumped involuntarily when Ivan reached out and ran a thumb down Alfred's cheek that was much too gentle for his liking.

Russia smirked, pleased that America had sharply moved his head away and let out a low growl. "Why do you think little England has taken you?"

"He hasn't taken me. I'm here by choice."

Ivan hid his chuckle behind his scarf. What a simple-minded boy. "I am surprised! I did not think England would be able to play such mind games!"

Alfred's widened slightly and all the color drained from his face. "Wh…what?"

"America's stupidity never stops amusing me!" Russia didn't bother holding off the next giggle that slipped from his lips. He took great interest in the confused and insulted look on America's face. "England is your old caretaker, da? But if memory serves, you left him. What a cold, cold thing for you to do, America. I'm sure England has not forgotten-"

"That was hundreds of years ago!" Alfred shouted but could feel his fears of Arthur holding him here forever creeping in.

Russia addressed the outburst with a smile he hid behind his scarf before continuing, "But things like that are painful. After taking care of you all that time, you decide to abandon him? Takim surovym…"

"I-I didn't abandon him! He didn't need me!" America tried to defend himself but he was afraid his tone only came out as panic.

"Nyet, he did not need you. But he wanted you. And you left him. Now you are here, on your own will, when you are so weak." He sighed happily as he gazed at Alfred with almost a longing for the young country. "Nevinnyĭ, nemnogo Ameriki. Don't you understand? England is taking advantage of you. You are only here so he can become as powerful as he was. Think of all that he could have once he has America back to himself again."

America almost felt as if he was going to vomit. His stomach dropped at the Russian's words because those were his fears. To hear them said out loud and spoken with such certainty made him want to crawl away and cry and scream and throw up all at once. He was angry at England but also heartbroken that his once trusted friend could be criminal to this treachery. Though at the same time…there was a part of Alfred who wanted to deny it all. He tried moving his mouth and tell Russia to go fuck himself because this was all nonsense. Alfred wanted to repeat what he said to France. _He's completely harmless. _But was he really? That was what Francis had been trying to say and what Ivan had been telling him. England wasn't safe… But why would he bother going through all that trouble to keep him safe?

Chuckling brought Alfred back from reality and he glowered at Russia for laughing at him. "You're expressions while you think are very funny, America! But we will be going now."

Alfred's expression could only be described as utter horror. "WHAT?"

"Has it not been obvious? I am here to take America." He pulled his pipe out from his coat and smacked the end against his palm. "We can do this easy or hard way."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, fucking bastard!" America snarled standing up tall to try and match Russia's height.

The bigger man smiled. "Hard way it is." He raised the pipe to whack his opponent but Alfred grabbed it with one hand. The almost matching strength made the pipe quiver between their grips and Russia frowned. "Po-prezhnemu silʹny," he muttered in disappointment. The translation barely registered for America before his feet were kicked out from under him and he instinctively put his hands out to catch his fall. However, he had released the pipe and didn't even get a moment to react as the metal crashed down against the side of his head.

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><p>Arthur arrived home with his arms full of grocery bags. He was surprised it had taken so long and hoped Alfred wasn't dying of starvation-metaphorically speaking. Though when he walked in the door, he realized Alfred wasn't lying on the couch. It was good to see because that meant the boy must be feeling better but at the same time…<p>

"America? Where did you go?" he called throughout the house. There was no response and he glanced around suspiciously. He was probably hiding away in his room taking a nap.

England made his way to the second floor still calling America's name. "Alfred-I brought food! Come down and help me put it away." Arthur grasped the doorknob but before he turned it there was a crash in his study. Expecting the worst, he hurried down and flung open the door only to see Alfred sitting on the ground with a pile of books from Arthur's bookshelf on top of him and Texas sliding off his nose.

"Alfred!" England snapped. "What the bloody hell were you doing?" Those books weren't exactly cheap and now some were probably ruined.

There was no response and England sighed annoyed. "Alfred-bloody hell-pay attention when I'm talking to you!"

Suddenly he jerked his head up and looked at England like he was surprised to hear him speak. "Oh," he said and stumbled while trying to get to his feet. "Sorry. I'll clean this up."

"Yes, you will." England folded his arms across his chest with a deep frown. "Right now help me get dinner ready. After we eat you can fix this mess."

Alfred made a very obvious look of disgust. "…how about I cook?"

England was taken aback from the offer but waved his hands in the air. "Fine, fine. I suppose for tonight you're allowed to cook. Though don't cook any repulsive hamburgers or anything fried and bathed in grease. I don't want to get sick later."

Alfred raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. He brushed himself off and walked ahead of England into the kitchen while Arthur pointed, "Oh, I see you found your glasses."

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><p><strong>AN:** Used Google translate for the Russian. I really hate Google translate because I know it's usually incorrect but ya know. I don't know any Russian so I'm on my own… Please correct me if anything is wrong!

takim surovym-so harsh…

nevinnyĭ, nemnogo Ameriki-innocent, little America.

po-prezhnemu silʹny-still strong.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: aaah-I see some were confused by the last chapter x3 well, that was my intention... you gotta stick around to understand it!

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><p>When America came to, he first tried opening his eyes then groaned in pain. It felt like someone dropped an anvil on his head and he cringed from the intense aches. It took a minute for him to realize he was lying down and it was a difficult to finally sit up. He looked around in a panic trying to gather his surroundings. He was in a bed. A large king size canopy bed with the posts reaching up seven feet to touch the high ceiling. The comforter was a dark plum color and his sheets were a soft cotton. The headboard was wood with intricate designs of sunflowers carved into the framework. The rest of the room was expanse-it had a chest of drawers across from the bed with a mirror on top. A bookshelf was against the other wall and a very antique lamp sat upon the bedside table. That looked to be the only available light source-save for giant floor to ceiling windows with the curtains pulled shut leaving the room in darkness another side of the room looked as if it was devoted to work because it was occupied by a desk accompanied with a shut laptop, which stood in front of the windows. There were also lots of Vodka bottles everywhere. Some on shelves, a few scattered on the desk, one on the bedside table; all of them either half empty or finished.<p>

"Where the hell..." But then Alfred remembered. Arthur went to buy food, Russia came, and beat him with the pipe. He subconsciously held his temple where he had been struck and groaned in pain. That fucking hurt... Was he in Ivan's house? In Ivan's _bed? _His lips curled in disgust as he patted himself down. Everything was still in place... Arthur must be worried sick. But he couldn't find his phone in any of his pockets. Where was it?

Oh that's right. He kept it next to his bed because he never wanted to talk to anyone.

There was no reason to sit around so Alfred got to his feet and stumbled through the dark trying to get to the door.

Locked. He shrugged and with a sharp tug wrenched the door from its hinges

Now it was time to find that communist bastard.

"Russia!" he called out. "Where the fuck are you?" The house was silent and America was getting annoyed. That could just be from his pounding head though.

"Russia!" he shouted louder and peeked into different rooms and looked behind all different doors but America underestimated how large Russia's home was. He growled in frustration and stomped down the hallway shouting for his kidnapper. There was a maniacal giggle behind him and Alfred spun around to face Ivan's grinning face like he was so amused to see America wondering aimlessly in search of him.

"America, you are so funny," he said sounding genuinely pleased with the display of his young guest.

"What the hell Russia? You kidnapped me!" he barked, hands wrapping in tight fists that turned his knuckles white. "And how long have you been watching me?"

"Just about the whole time."

At that moment a fist collided painfully with Russia's jaw. Ivan stumbled from the blow and put a hand to his face then moved his mouth up and down. "Ochenʹ khorosho!" He praised and attempted smiling but the condition of his face wouldn't allow that. "I am impressed. I didn't think America had that much strength left!"

"Fuck you!" America snapped and retracted his fist to hit Russia again but the other nation caught it before the hand connected to his already bruising face.

"That's enough," Russia said firmly. This time he had no smile on his face.

Alfred felt himself unintentionally gulp.

"Here," Russia practically threw an ice pack at America's head where he was hit with the pipe causing Alfred to wince in pain. "It will stop the swelling."

Alfred held it gingerly to his temple and glared back at Russia. "Why the fuck did you kidnap me?"

Russia's sickeningly sweet smile returned. "Are you too dense to understand? You are what everyone wishes to possess. I only acted faster. Umnyĭ, da?"

"No, it's not fucking clever! You kidnapped me!"

"Da. And yet, no chains. You are free to leave whenever you wish but here you stand, yelling at me."

Alfred's mouth hung slightly as this registered in his mind. He spun on his heel and bolted for the other direction but Russia snatched the back of his shirt and with one swift tug America was yanked flat on his back. He groaned again from the pain and went to sit up; however, Russia planted his boot in the middle of America's chest.

He loomed over his prize, giggling madly. "Glupyĭ malʹchik. You seem to underestimate me."

Alfred could barely scowl at the man above him because of the throbbing that shot through his body. He coughed when Russia applied more pressure to his chest before stepping off him completely.

"Of course I won't let you go. You are mine now."

Alfred caught his breath and sat up, holding the ice pack. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to put it on his chest or head. "Fuck you," he wheezed. Ivan crouched down in front of Alfred and tipped his chin up to look at him.

"Now, now Alfred. That is no way to speak to your host," Ivan said cheerfully.

"Pretty shitty host," he growled and yanked his face out of Russia's grasp. He wanted to stand up again; Russia's hand planted itself painfully on his shoulder, keeping him in place.

"Russia! Stop it! I want to get up!" Alfred was almost whining at this point. This was getting so tiresome.

Ivan shook his head. "Nyet. If you get up you will leave."

"So, what-I'm just going to sit here all the time? We need to move eventually!"

Russia blinked at America. Then, with no warning at all, flung him over his shoulder even with Alfred shouting and demanding to be put down. He kicked and punched and pinched and did all he could to get out of Russia's grip but he was at a slight disadvantage given his current predicament. America was only released when they reached Ivan's study where he was dropped haphazardly onto the couch. The springs bounced and his back smashed against the divider below the cushions. Alfred groaned again. Now his whole body had different aches and pains. At this point he wanted to crawl into his bed back at home across the ocean and sleep. He hurt everywhere. Russia was just pulling out his papers from his desk like nothing was amiss. Alfred turned over on his side, looking over at Russia now very deep into his work. What was going on? Well, yes, America did realize what was happening. Russia had taken him and was holding him captive here. What was he planning? Did he think Alfred was just going to sit here like some obedient puppy? He would run but his back was sore and his head was pounding and he was still having difficulty breathing. At the very least he could try to get some shut eye...

"Why now...?" he asked, panting just so slightly. Russia could have taken America at any moment. Preferably in his own home. Russia dropped his pen and pinched the bridge of his nose like this was some kind of pain to him.

_Ass_, Alfred thought in his head. Russia thought _he_ was annoyed?

"I do not know what is so difficult for you to understand. I suppose I always forget how dense you are."

Alfred growled softly and tried sitting up into an almost comfortable position. "I haven't been threatened by anyone. It just seems so random-"

Ivan's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise at the statement. "What? America, I know you are slow but I did not think you were challenged."

America only addressed the slight with a hard scowl. "What? It's true. France may have made moves on me but it's France-"

"Nyet. You honestly don't know?" Russia's mouth twitched into a smile then before he knew it, Ivan was bursting with laughter that was even bringing tears to his eyes. The sound was something that could make babies cry and Alfred felt almost sick to be in its presence. "Kak smeshno! Leave it to America to not know what's even going on in his own country!"

"What-"

Though Russia was already out of the study before America could finish the sentence. It took maybe five minutes for Ivan to return and shove a newspaper in his face. It was maybe a day or two old.

America looked it over with his brow raised and looked back up at the other country looming over him, expectantly. Did he expect Alfred to be able to read that? "Dude this is all in Russian."

"Da. We are in Russia." He smiled like he was being very helpful.

America frowned at him. "I can't-"

Russia held up a hand and giggled. "Do not pretend, America. I know you have picked up Russian."

"Yeah-picked up some phrases and words but I can't read all this." He roughly pushed paper away annoyed. This was getting nowhere.

Russia sighed then cleared his throat so he could begin reading, "With United States now being under the jurisdiction of England, Americans voiced their opinions. Some agreed but many others say it is the USA's way of giving in and throwing out the Constitution. Therefore, another civil war has broken out. The Confederate States has been resurrected and with each victory it grows considerably larger." Russia down at America expectantly.

Alfred's face went noticeably pale. Wait...wait...what? Confederates? Growing? Civil war? "Wait...what? Let-let me see the date-" He went to grab for the paper, his hands visibly shaking, but Russia yanked it close to his chest.

"It is this year, America. Though the Confederacy is growing larger each day, the United States still remains strong. It may be slipping but it holds more power than your rival. I would rather hold you then him."

America didn't exactly want to think why Russia would rather the USA other than the CSA because he was too busy thinking about...everything. This was what England had been hiding from him? That's why Texas had been missing. Confederacy had already taken it. But when? That was the cause of his headaches. His people weren't just dying-they were having another civil war. Most likely even worse than the first. Did everyone know? Was he the only one left in the dark? His mouth dried at the very thought. The room became much too hot. He became dizzy and lightheaded. America was being taken over by his own people. One of his greatest fears was coming true. With that lost thought he passed out.

0o0

England was more or less surprised to find Alfred's food a bit on the spicier side. _Has he always cooked like this…?_ He thought to himself. Well, Alfred did have quite a mix of cultures in him. It wasn't a shock to see him trying out another variety every now and then.

America was being very…quiet. He almost looked to be thinking… What had him so worried? His brow was creased and Arthur couldn't help but frown. Alfred shouldn't have that face on. He should be pleased or at least content. America wasn't built to have such a serious look.

"Can I help you…?" Arthur almost jumped at the sound of Alfred's voice and immediately colored when he realized he had been staring this whole time.

"Er-no, no. I was…I was just thinking…" Arthur quickly looked back at his plate and wiped off his mouth with a napkin. He didn't even notice Alfred stand from his seat and swiftly move behind England's chair. Arthur jumped when he felt two hands on his shoulder and was suddenly spun around to face Alfred. What had gotten in to this boy? Arthur could feel his face flush red at the close proximity of their faces.

"A-Alfred, what are you-"

He did not get to finish though because Alfred mashed their mouth together.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Translation-

ochenʹ khorosho-very good!

umnyĭ-clever

Glupyĭ malʹchik-stupid boy

Kak smeshno!-How funny!

Oh yeah, and I hope no one takes offense to the spicy food thing. Just…southern food is spicier I've noticed! Also, next chapter will be when the rating goes up! ;D


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: some smutterific scenes coming up ladies and gents~!

This was actually super hard to write…

* * *

><p>Part of England was thinking, <em>yes! Yes! Alfred is kissing me! He made the first move<em>! Much akin to that of a young school girl who spoke to her crush for the first time. On the other hand, something felt very wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it (and frankly, he didn't want to) but there was something very off about America.

"Al-" Though he stopped and the breath hitched in his throat when Alfred let his tongue graze against Arthur's teeth. Arthur practically melted in his chair and opened his lips to let Alfred slide his tongue in against his own. His heart beat raced in his chest, surely about to burst from how excited he was getting and Arthur could feel his pants getting much too tight to keep on any longer. Arthur stood up and wound his arms around the curves of Alfred's hips and yanked them together to cause some friction to his aching crotch. A cute moan elicited from Alfred's throat which had Arthur's head reeling. He wasn't thinking at all. He just wanted Alfred. Just Alfred. ….

Teeth nipped at Alfred's pink lips and soon Arthur was moving his kisses down the young man's throat as he desperately tried removing his pants and was happy to see Alfred doing the same. In another moment, Arthur could feel both their hard dicks pressing against each other between the fabrics of their underwear. He bit on Alfred's skin much harder than intended but the other didn't seem to care as a low moan echoed throughout the kitchen. Arthur could barely contain himself from that sweet, sweet sound and examined the mark he made with great pride; _yes, this is mine,_ was all he could think in his head. Alfred's hands were bunching themselves in his hair, tugging and pulling in the most delicious way as Arthur attacked his mouth again without even realizing they were backing up until his back slammed against the hard table top. Though he would have preferred to be the one fucking his favorite country, at this point Arthur just wanted Alfred however he came.

Alfred crawled on top of Arthur with his knees right on the table edge and was already peeling off the last remnants of clothes. It was like nothing else to see the proud country smile turned up into a smirk as a large warm hand traveled its way up Arthur's slick chest and follow the curves of his muscles. There had been no talking at all, only Alfred's moans and Arthur's grunts but England wasn't complaining. It was not like such an obnoxious person such as Alfred to remain so silent but at the same time it was nice to just hear the boy's panting and listen to the sucking of their mouths against one another.

Arthur raked his hands along Alfred's back, relishing in the way their bodies moved so wonderfully together and not even ashamed to let himself groan a bit when Alfred rubbed his cock against Arthur's thighs. The younger man licked at Arthur's cheek, tasting the salt before he leaned up and stuck two of his fingers in his mouth. It was almost criminal the way he wrapped his tongue so perfectly around each digit and stuck them so far past his lips that had Arthur craving to put that loud mouth to a more appropriate use. His glasses slid down his nose, revealing more clearly half lidded and lusty blue eyes which had much more words to them than Alfred could possibly say. It sent an involuntary shiver up Arthur's spine.

One finger slid its way into Arthur's tight opening and he couldn't help but be grateful this was not his first time. This daunting preparation might take longer than necessary. Nonetheless, England couldn't help how happy he felt at this moment. Finally after so many years of yearning for Alfred in every way he could have him, the boy handed himself over an silver pl-

"Gah!" He clawed at Alfred's shoulder when the sneaky bastard slid inside Arthur's hole without any kind of warning. There was even a cocky little grin plastered across his face while he waited for Arthur to adjust to his size.

"Don't be so full of yourself," Arthur grunted, arching himself up into Alfred.

"I think you're the one full of me," Alfred chuckled and began slowly pumping into the man beneath him.

Arthur was a bit surprised at the cheeky mark but did not get the chance as Alfred picked up his pace. He didn't want to give Alfred the satisfaction of how delicious it felt so he bit onto the other's shoulder to stop anything from slipping out of his mouth. How was Alfed so good at this? Had the boy slept with anyone else? A pang of jealousy shot through him at the thought; so what if he did? Alfred was so many years old now; he could have sex with whoever he wanted. As much as Arthur didn't like that idea.

And Arthur _really_ didn't like that idea.

Even though it was hard to gain balance, Alfred still managed to slam himself deeply into Arthur with each powerful thrust. That damn strength of his came in handy sometimes, Arthur decided. He stopped caring about letting Alfred hear him. He arched into him and ground his hips against Alfred; anything to get more of him. Alfred even let his grin drop and had two arms planted on either side of Arthur's head to use as leverage. With Arthur's legs slung lazily over his hips, it caused a better angle for them both for Alfred to graze against that wonderful spot that had Arthur's head spinning. Their slick bodies rubbed together in such a way that had Arthur's cock aching for more attention and Alfred kindly obliged with his hand matching the pace of his thrusts. It was only a matter of time before Arthur let out a lovely cry and came all over Alfred's hand with the latter following suite.

It wasn't as if Arthur was hoping for some cuddling right there on his kitchen table, but he certainly wished for a bit more attention rather than America simply pulling out of him and disappearing back into another part of the house.

Actually, it made him feel like total shit.

He lay there on the table wondering if he was just there for Alfred to get off to. But Alfred wasn't like that… Not Alfred… Not his sweet little Alfred…

Or was it time for England to come to terms with the fact America was no longer his sweet little Alfred?

oOo

Ivan set little America down in a more comfortable position on the couch. Otherwise the boy would get a crick in his neck...how uncomfortable. When America wasn't talking, Ivan always noticed how handsome he was. His eyes were the prettiest-such a lovely sky blue. It would be nice to see them a lovely shade of death one day.

Russia shook his head quickly, a bit disturbed by his own thoughts. Ah, sanity was slipping away from him at a much more rapid pace these days. If only he could control it.

Pretty Alfred never seemed to have such a problem with that...

There was rustling from the young country and a quiet groan escaped his mouth. Ivan sat himself down on the coffee table in front of Alfred with a patient smile until America finally opened his eyes and yelped. He was not expecting Russia to be so damn close when he woke up.

"Pryvet," Ivan greeted, not at all perturbed by the small shout of surprise. "It's about time. I was starting to worry."

Alfred was clutching his heart while doing his best to catch his breath. "Wha...what?" This was the second time he woke that he needed to jog his memory about what had just transpired. Was it the same day? Was it all a bad dream? Of course not. Russia was still smiling at him. "How long have I been out?" he asked breathlessly. Must have been for at least ten days.

"Almost an hour."

"...oh." That was anticlimactic. He sat up to a sitting position and rubbed the butt of his palm against his eyes. "Wh-where's Texas?"

"Probably with the CSA," Russia answered calmly.

America's eyes shot open. He had completely forgotten. He groaned and dropped back against the couch with his hands covering his face unsure whether he wanted to cry or shoot someone. A bit of both, he decided.

"Russia..." he began, trying to keep his voice calm. It quivered slightly even after his best efforts.

The larger man just smiled at him expectantly. "Da?"

"Why...why am I here? I mean, besides the fact everybody wants me."

Russia's smile dropped. So it has come to this, has it? With some hesitation, Russia drummed his fingers against his thigh trying to think it through. He felt that even if he opened up to America, the boy would never understand. He would accuse Russia of something or other without considering the true reasons for Ivan's actions. After several minutes of blank staring, Ivan finally let himself smile again. "Razve my ne druzʹya? Nashi otnosheniya byli zhestko i ranʹshe, no ya dumayu, chto-"

"Woah, woah, woah! Stop the Russian!" America scowled at the older man. He knew that Ivan liked to speak his native tongue just to bother America. Ever since he started realizing Alfred could actually understand some words he said, he had been taking advantage of it. "I can barely understand you!"

Russia just chuckled, though at America's annoyance. "Mozhet bytʹ, eto mozhet bytʹ vashim rodnym yazykom , kogda-nibudʹ, da?"

There was a pause as the translation slowly processed through Alfred's brain. There were few words he recognized which helped him piece together the whole sentence. "Ha, very funny Russia. But there would be no way in hell-"

A hand shot out and fisted a handful of America's shirt to yank him inches from Russia's psychotic grin. "I do not think you are in any position to be making long term decision right now, Alfred."

America squirmed in Russia's relentless grip to no avail. Obviously the country was rapidly becoming stronger; though Alfred wasn't so much afraid of his strength. It was hard to tell if Ivan was mentally all there. "R-Russia, lemme go," he grunted and wiggled about, tugging at his shirt. It looked like it was starting to tear.

"Ah, Alfred. You do not realize what that wiggling does to me. It would be nice to see you writhing painfully underneath me, da?"

America's eyes widened at the suggestion and without another thought, reeled back and punched Russia square in the face as hard as he could. The impact forced the country to lean far back after releasing America which caused the table Russia had been sitting on to topple over and he was lying flat on his back. He clutched his bleeding nose that he was sure was broken and gaped at the ceiling. Lost control again. Ivan didn't quite remember what was said but he knew he had been far gone for a few seconds and Alfred was kind enough to punch the sanity back into him. Russia slowly sat up into a sitting position and nodded courteously to America who was still sitting on the couch, looking petrified.

"Spasiba," Russia said kindly and stood up. He would need to clean up his face then get some work done. He was rather behind…

After Russia had left, America couldn't quite wrap his head around what he just witnessed. He just socked Russia in the face and the guy got up like America suggested they go for a stroll tomorrow afternoon. Ivan was losing it and Alfred could see. Sure, Ivan has always been a sick bastard but that moment when he held America in his gaze, Alfred could tell there was something else there.

And it looked terrifying.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I'm trying really hard not to turn this into rusame x3 they are my otp... But don't worry. It's definitely a usuk fic~

Also, did you guys notice my obsession with calling America little?

Translation:

Razve my ne druzʹya? Nashi otnosheniya byli zhestko i ranʹshe, no ya dumayu, chto -Aren't we friends? Our relationship has been tough before but I think-

Mozhet bytʹ, eto mozhet bytʹ vashim rodnym yazykom , kogda-nibudʹ , da?- Maybe it can be your native language someday, yes?

Spasiba-Thank you


	10. Chapter 10

It had been three days. Three bloody days since Alfred touched him. Not even in a sexual way; it was as if America was purposely avoiding any kind of contact with Arthur. They didn't kiss or hold hands and hug-hell, America seemed to try not to graze his hand when passing him a fork at dinner. It was like nothing ever happened between them and that hurt worse than anything.

That evening England decided today he would speak to Alfred about how rude it was to have sex with a person on their own kitchen table then carry on each day like it was nothing. It made the other feel used and upset and lonely and… Well, Arthur was mad at the bloody git for treating him like some cheap prostitute! Arthur Kirkland was no one's prostitute! He bought prostitutes! And they certainly were not cheap, either!

So England waltzed downstairs perfectly set on telling America what for when he saw his housemate cooking a meal. He looked kind of cute, whistling the Star-Spangled Banner in his socks and short t shirt. England smelled mashed potatoes, corn bread, fried chicken and green vegetables.

"Wow," he said incredulously. Alfred glanced sideways at him, clearly not realizing Arthur had even been in the room. "I can't remember the last time you cooked something that wasn't your disgusting burgers."

There was that haughty smirk again that Arthur had never really seen on Alfred's face before. It looked almost menacing. "Wanted something different today," America answered. England still could not shake a feeling lodged in the back of his mind that something was not right. The usual nonsense that spilled from Alfred's mouth a mile a minute hardly ever said a word lately.

"America, I wanted to talk to you-" He grabbed Alfred's shoulder, set on spinning him around and letting him know every thought he had about prostitutes and proper etiquette to someone you just slept with, but none of that had a chance out of his mouth. The big oaf decided instead to spin around and slither his tongue into Arthur's waiting mouth without so much as a warning. Arthur should have been angry with him, but there was that thought again of how long he waited for Alfred and how wonderful his tongue was gliding around, and oh he was grinding their hips together now too, and before he knew it, Arthur was willingly being pressed into the counter top with Alfred rubbing his thigh against him tauntingly. Though what was worse was not how Alfred gripped so firmly to England's aching member but how America so rudely withdrew completely to finish cooking. Arthur was still hard and aching for Alfred to relieve him of it… He could do nothing but walk away miserably to solve the problem himself.

What was wrong with this boy? Did England really raise him to be so rude? Arthur couldn't help though to blame himself. He wanted Alfred so bad that he let that conniving boy take advantage of him. He was controlling England whether he knew it or not. It was absolutely awful. If England didn't love Alfred as much as he did he would kick him out and feed him to the dogs. Of course that wasn't an option.

o0o

Alfred was curled up in Ivan's guest bed, feeling very scared and very alone. It had been three days since Russia kidnapped him. He wanted to go home and eat his own food and watch his normal TV set and be with his people. No matter how angry they were at him.

Of course even if he did go back, he wouldn't be safe. He'd be crushed. Destroyed. They had lost faith in him...everyone lost faith in him. Kiku wanted to take American resources and probably make alliances with the CSA. That hurt him down to his core. He couldn't even trust England. He couldn't trust anyone. Now all he could do was sit and wait for his demise. It was such an un-heroic thing to do.

"I'm supposed to save people," he mumbled into the darkness of the unfamiliar bedroom. America really hated to admit it but he needed help. Though no one wanted to protect him.

The only possible savior he had was Canada. If England cared at all for him then he should be on the prowl. It had been three days-wouldn't Arthur notice Alfred was gone? _Probably too busy thinking of ways to make me his fucking colony again,_ he thought miserably.

After running through a list of countries in his head, Alfred realized most of them had a reason to attack. Then why hadn't anyone done anything? Were they all just waiting for America to cave in on itself? The modern civil war to destroy the country from the inside? Yet Russia said everyone was after him. Ivan was just faster at it. He had no idea what was going on with the rest of the world so if anyone had ever tried anything America would have no idea. Russia made it a point to wreck every television set or radio and hid the newspaper from his unwilling guest.

"Can't let you get any ideas, lapushka," Russia giggled in response once Alfred questioned his methods.

Not only did Alfred hate the nickname, he hated the way Russia now thought so small of him. "Fuck you," he retorted and hid back in his new bedroom.

America hardly took any time to wander about the house and usually stayed inside the bedroom Ivan first placed him in because he didn't exactly want to get familiar with the house. Though, despite trying to spend as little time as possible in other rooms, Alfred couldn't help but notice how empty Russia's giant home was. Weren't the Baltics living there too? America hadn't seen them anywhere. Wouldn't America have heard something about that? Then again, America had been cut off from everyone for the past few months. He didn't exactly have time to worry about what was going on in Russia's part of the world.

Alfred glanced at the clock and realized he had barely slept at all. It was around three in the morning and it bothered him that Russia was still awake. He could see the light on under the crack of his door. What could he possibly be doing at three in the morning? Ivan had been awake almost every night now; was it something to do with America? Alfred began to panic as he thought of that possibility. Was he going to violate him? Maybe he already did! Maybe he did every night after poor, helpless Alfred went to sleep! Maybe he killed England! That's why Arthur hadn't come looking for him yet! Maybe it was actually the apocalypse outside and it was just Russia and America left in the entire world!

That was it! America was not going to sit around like some scared little girl and let Russia take over the world! He flung his feet out and threw open the door, stomping into the hallway to give Russia a piece of his mind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So I promise things will be more interesting in the next chapter... This was super dull and I'm sorry… I just wanted to update something so I could let you guys know I'm not really sure the next time I'm going to be able to update again. It will probably just be a little over a week. 12 days at most. Possibly less. Its really up in there at this point. Soo. Yep. Well. I'll see you then!

Translation: lapushka-little paw


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** guys bear with me in this chapter. Like I said, I knew very little about political relationships but I'm learning. This is also set in the future so keep that in mind too.

* * *

><p>Russia glanced over his shoulder with a small smile when he heard Alfred burst through the door, panting and obviously angry about something. He looked quite adorable in this disheveled state; rumpled t-shirt and baggy pants hanging off his hips, causing Ivan to let out a tiny giggle.<p>

"You!" America cried out with an accusing finger pointed at the larger country's back. "What the hell are you doing? Plotting? Have you killed England? Because I haven't heard from him! Is he locked up in some closet? I bet you killed all the countries, didn't you? Now you're going to torture me and rip off my finger nails one by one! Well, that's illegal you know!"

When Ivan turned around, America was sending him death glares that would kill a rhino. It was reminiscent of the Cold War days when the two super powers emanated so much hate for each other you could practically choke on the atmosphere. It made the man grin. He didn't miss the chaos but he certainly missed the exhilaration he felt when he was constantly duking it out with America. Now the young country hardly paid him any mind these days. Well, now Russia had the opportunity to rile up America again. Alfred was much more fun that way.

"It's illegal in _your_ country," Ivan responded, now turning in his chair with his hands folded across his chest. "And suppose I do have your beloved England. What will you do?"

Alfred's blue eyes widened at the possibility of his longtime friend being held captive in the basement or locked away in a dirty attic with no food or sunlight and freeze to death or eaten by rats. The very thought made Alfred's blood boil. "You fucking psychopath! What did you do to him?"

Russia tried not to grin too wide at the other's reaction. "I have done nothing."

"Don't lie to me! I can tell you did! I know that look in your eye!"

This was incredibly entertaining to watch America flustered over this conversation in nothing but his sleepwear with his cheeks burning red with rage and his eyes bulging out. "America, you are overreacting. I have been here this whole time," he said calmly. "How on earth would I have the time to capture you and hide England? Especially with you moping all over the house."

"I-!" Alfred's face was now burning with more than anger. "I am not moping!" He folded his arms in a childish huff. He was not a moping person. The very idea was just silly. Russia giggled and spun back around to his desk, shaking his head at the boy's ridiculous antics. America stood in the center of the room still brooding over the fact he was just called mopey. "Well! You kidnapped me anyway! You want me to jump for joy?"

"I thought you were upset over the idea of me having your little England? Feeling a little selfish, aren't you?"

"I-I am not selfish! I'm still mad about that too! I'm just all around pissed off! Why hasn't he tried looking for me? Why am I here? Why are you up all hours of the fucking night? What in the holy hell are you even doing?"

The Russian hesitated a moment after Alfred was finished his shouting. What harm was it in showing the boy? It wasn't as if America could even do anything at this point. "Alright, Alfred. Come see."

As Russia pushed his chair out of the way to allow America access to the desk, the other nation watched him suspiciously. It was hard to believe Russia was actually allowing Alfred to see his super-secret world dominating scheme. America stepped in a large circle around the man to finally see what was being held on the table top.

A map.

A large world map, actually. It was covered in multi-colored pawns dotting every country and territory. America paid special attention to his own country. There were blue, red and purple pawns spread across the picture. He assumed it was the CSA, USA and something else. He really hoped he was blue. They were taking up almost the entire country.

"Wha…which…" He could barely get the courage to ask.

"You are red," Russia explained as he pointed out the different colors. "CSA is blue. I am purple."

The purple pawns were encroaching dangerously close to the capital.

Alfred felt his knees wobble and he grasped the table for support. The blue pawns were spread throughout the south and getting closer up north towards Virginia. He gulped audibly and licked his lips, wanting to speak but unable to make a sound.

"Y-your..." He nodded towards all the purple pawns that were surrounding Washington.

Russia smirked slightly. "Da. We are getting close, Alfred. Skoro u nas budet odna." One cold hand snaked its way up Alfred's thigh and it made him jump. He slapped away Ivan's hand like it was some pesky gnat and looked over the rest of the world. England was green. He noticed one other color. An orange flag in the center.

"England is...who is that?" America was confused. Why would anyone try to invade England? It was America everyone was after.

"France. France is forming an alliance with England-that's what the flag is. They mean alliances. China and Japan are also coming together."

"What? China and Japan? France and England? _What_?" The world seemed to be falling apart before him.

Russia nodded. "Da. China sees it as a final way to beat you. If he can eliminate the competition there's nothing to worry about. He promised Japan territory and they will split up your resources."

America thought he was going to be sick. Both used to be his friends at one point in time and were now bargaining over him like meat.

"England is trying to protect you. He needed to form a treaty with France; otherwise he will be crushed by opposing forces," Russia continued to explain. He kept an eye on America for his reactions. It was amusing to watch; this strong super power seemed to be crumbling before his very eyes.

France's army was getting bigger, but America didn't think it was that strong. He shook his head trying to understand it all. "Wait, wait... So. Does England know I'm here?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He hasn't declared war. We've been keeping the invasion secret. America is almost cut off from the world. England is-...was keeping you under tight lock and key. He's working an alliance with Germany now. Canada is fighting Mexico. It is true chaos, lapushka."

"But...he's not protecting me from CSA..."

"He is protecting you. They sent in dozens of troops to fend it off. Unfortunately, it's difficult. You have no government anymore, Alfred. It toppled over a few days ago. It's hard to tell who's fighting who and why."

America's knees buckled, unable to stand any longer. How? How could this possibly happen? Everything he had ever worked for was being torn apart piece by piece by his own people. No one was running the country. Hell, there was hardly even a country! No wonder he had been feeling so sick. Right now he felt light headed and ill and wanted to lie down and pretend it was all a nightmare. A nightmare... That's all it was.

Russia kneeled down beside him and smiled but Alfred wouldn't meet his eye. He was so ashamed. Ivan grabbed the broken country's chin and turned his face to meet his own.

" Malenʹkiĭ malʹchik, don't worry. It will be better under my rule rather than the Confederates. You'll see," he purred softly. Alfred's eyes shot open and he pushed Russia as hard as he could and the man toppled over. As he sat up though he had that psychotic grin again and Alfred actually felt frightened. Not again…

"R-Russia..." he began crawling away as Russia came closer on his hands and knees with the scarf gently trailing across the floor.

"Nyet, say my name, podsolnechnik."

Alfred gulped and backed himself against a wall. He did not like the idea of being trapped with Russia showing his crazy side again. "Shit-! I-Ivan-" He was abruptly cut off by Ivan's mouth clamping onto his own.

"I love how you say my name," he mumbled cruelly then nibbled viciously on Alfred's lip before the other country could protest. Alfred kicked his stomach and Ivan doubled over on top of the horrified young man. He let out a cough as America tried for escape but Ivan snatched hold of Alfred's shirt and yanked him back underneath Russia. He straddled across his prey and pinned down his arms above his head with a wicked smile.

"America the beautiful," he said in a husky voice and leaned down, trailing his tongue up the side of his face. "Da. You certainly are beautiful..."

"Fuck! Russia! Let me go!" Alfred tried kicking and throwing off the larger man but he was not strong enough. It almost seemed this other side of Russia had double the power. All Alfred could do was bang their skulls together when Russia was close enough, jarring them both.

"Oĭ, chto bolʹno..." Russia groaned. He tutted disapprovingly down at America still fighting him off between his legs. "I thought this would be fun?" He grinded on Alfred's groin roughly making the boy's face curl up in a look that proved he was disguising how good that friction felt.

"Russia! Russia, stop it! Get off me!" It was a demand rather than the sweet begging Ivan longed to hear from the young man's loud voice.

"Nyet. I haven't had my fun," he retorted and one hand went into Alfred's pants to grab his manhood. Ivan squeezed it and a small sound came from America's throat but the country shut his mouth quickly to cover it up.

"None of that, now." Ivan gently stroked his shaft up and down, watching Alfred's face fight off how good it felt. His mouth was in a closed line to hide away any sound that might protrude. Russia grinned. All he wanted was for America to make some kind of noise; he loved having this control over the one great and powerful United States.

Ivan gently kissed trails down Alfred's cheek; a gesture much too soft for the current situation. He reached Alfred's throat to give it a hard bite right on his jugular which caused a loud, involuntary gasp from the other nation. Russia took the opportunity to plunge his tongue deep into America's mouth; all the while his hand pumped the hardening member. Alfred whimpered pleadingly and wiggled his body in a desperate attempt to escape Ivan.

"Mmm... Alfred, you are being so tempting." He pulled up with his mouth just gently grazing across Alfred and his thumb stroking in even circles. "It's funny to think, da? I could just...take you right now. I could kill you-" He giggled at that and gripped much too tight to Alfred's cock, making the man hiss in pain. "I could kill you and no one would know."

"You...you can't..." he panted heavily as he turned his flushed face away from Ivan who continued peppering his cheek and lips with soft bites. "You can't kill me..."

"Oh, yes I certainly can." His free hand released itself from Alfred's wrist and wrapped around the boy's throat, pressing his palm against his windpipe. Alfred gagged and clawed at Ivan's face, trying to push him off. Russia was continuing to run his hands along Alfred's shaft and the pleasure of that along with being choked had an odd sensation on America.

Not that he enjoyed it.

Although he was losing air fast, Alfred managed to send the butt of his palm straight into Ivan's nose and upper jaw. It was still weak but it certainly did the trick. Ivan's head flung back from the force of it and he was sure he tasted blood after the impact.

There was a long silence that followed as the two stared intensely at each other. "America…" Ivan began softly as he gazed at the horrified boy beneath him. Alfred was still flushed and panting slightly but Russia was more aware he was stil gripping the throbbing member, he released it and took a seat across from America. "I…apologize." Russia wasn't sure what else to say. His intentions weren't to kidnap America and force himself onto the other nation. The silence and the way Alfred was gaping at him was becoming unbearably awkward so Russia slunk back to his chair to stare at his map.

Meanwhile, Alfred was still on the floor completely stunned at what just transpired. "You…apologize?" He sat himself up and frowned. "You _apologize_? Christ, Russia! You were about to _rape_ me! And you just…_apologize_?"

Russia hunched over the table and rubbed his hand across his face. "Da, America. I said I apologize. I wasn't in my right of my mind." There was no other excuse for what had occurred. Russia was thoroughly embarrassed and just wished America would go away. He didn't need that obnoxious voice ringing in his ear.

"No _fuck_! Russia-you can't-! What the hell even was that?" He wobbled to his feet, trying to regain himself after being molested and bruised. "Dude, I know your psycho but I didn't think-"

"I said I was sorry, America. I don't know what else you want from me. Sometimes I lose myself. Now go to bed. It is getting late." He was raising his voice although it may have been a bit shaky. All Russia wanted now was some peace and quiet to think. Perhaps tomorrow he would give America a more decent apology.

Alfred slapped his hand hard on the table top which sent a few pawns flying to the floor. Ivan watched as his purple figures rolled around and he caught one before it reached the ground. "Don't treat me like a child! I might be screwed politically but I will not let you treat me like some doll!"

Russia finally glanced up at America. The look in those big blue eyes was a very familiar expression of the old America. It was strong, stubborn and full of fight in them. It was America. Free, brave, and beautiful.

Ivan merely smiled fondly and patted Alfred gently on his cheek that almost seemed loving. "No, no, podsolnechnik. I wouldn't dream of mistreating you."

America frowned and folded his arms in a huff. "Stop with the damn nicknames."

"Oh, they are reserved for England?"

"…I'm going to bed."

But Ivan would have the last word this time.

"It is strange, though, isn't it," Ivan called from his chair. He could slowly feel the coldness creep into his heart and draw a crooked smile across his face. "That England hasn't called you."

America paused at the door, one foot out in the hallway. He hated to admit how right Russia was about that. If England was really caring for him so much…Well, then where was he? "Yeah… I guess…"

"There's always that small chance that he doesn't know you're even missing?" Ivan fingered a blue pawn sitting on the edge of the east side of America.

America turned his head over his shoulder briefly. "… What do you mean?"

"Well, the CSA is you right? So…you would be the same-" Russia didn't get to finish his sentence because he heard the rapid footsteps of Alfred rushing down the stairs, presumably reaching for the household phone.

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><p><strong>AN: **This scene wasn't actually supposed to be "hot and steamy" it was mostly just to show you how fucked up Russia is~

Translation-

Skoro u nas budet odna-Soon we will be one.

Malenʹkiĭ malʹchik-little boy

Podsolnechnik-sunflower

Oĭ, chto bolʹno-ouch that hurt

Also-I apologize for going from long/short/long/short/long/short chapters... I'm really inconsistant. ;_;

I need to stop apologizing.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Hey guys wanna know a secret? I'm also writing a rusame fic as I write this. I mean it's hardly anything without any plot and just fluff but I had to. I was gonna ruin this if I didn't get it outta my system.

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><p>"Ungrateful little prat," England grumbled on as he cleaned up yet another one of his disastrous meals that America had so rudely refused to eat. He had cooked a delicious lunch-albeit a little burnt-for his guest but Alfred disappeared as soon as Arthur turned on the oven. When he finally found the boy, America dismissed him and said he already made lunch for himself. Arthur stomped off into the kitchen to throw everything into the waste bin while shouting profanities to all the kitchenware.<p>

America was behaving so rudely to him. It wasn't quite like his usual rudeness where Arthur would smack him to make him behave because it was just Alfred being a childish fool. It was completely different; almost as if Alfred was purposely going out of his way to be hurtful to England which was not something Alfred did. He was self-centered, obnoxious, arrogant, idiotic, and uncouth but Alfred was not mean. It would worry Arthur if he wasn't so upset at that bloody fool for toying with his feelings so much. England couldn't even blame America because Arthur was _letting_ the man get away with it. He was constantly coming up with different excuses that Alfred was going through a hard time and he was sick and not thinking straight so he really wasn't aware of what he was doing to Arthur. Alfred was just feeling alone and abused so he would come crawling to Arthur begging for attention until he found himself satisfied. That was at least the excuse Arthur used. In reality, America barely paid England any mind. After their little rendezvous in the kitchen, America was still keeping his distance from England as much as possible. It seemed that the only time Alfred reached out for sexual attention was when England wanted to talk to him about serious matters. Such as disappearing for hours a day, making strange phone calls, leaving the house with no word and sometimes it was only when England asked if America would help him file some paperwork. If England didn't any better, he would think America was smart enough to use sex against him. But this was Alfred; the younger country could barely understand a world map let alone be this conniving.

England was busy wiping down the counter that was doused in vinegar when the phone started to ring. With a sigh, he casually made his way to answer it, assuming it was France going on about new uniforms they could design. If it wasn't for America's well-being, Arthur swears he would-

"England?"

He was taken aback by the sound of utter panic in America's voice on the other line. It was crackling and breathless like he had been running for a long period of time. "…Alfred? Where are you calling me from?"

There was the sound of obvious relief in the other's voice as he went on talking rather fast, "I'm at Russia's! Arthur, you gotta listen to me-"

"Russia's house?" Arthur felt his blood boil and it was hard to stop his voice from quivering with anger. "_Russia's_ _house_? You went all the way there to get away from my cooking? You-!" Arthur couldn't quite find the words to describe the frustration building up in him but it didn't matter much because America continued talking anyway in the same rush as when he started.

"No, no! England, I-…well, actually I might. I mean, your food is pretty terrible dude. Sometimes I'm afraid it's alive and I gotta eat it before it eats me."

"It is not that bad!" He growled over the line. Why must he be so insufferable? "You have no taste buds! You wouldn't know a good meal if it bit you in the arse!"

"Oh, trust me, Artie. I _know_ good food. No, wait-" The panic was back in America's voice tenfold and he began spluttering out words that England could barely understand. "England! I'm at Russia's! He kidnapped me! I'm being held hostage and he tried to rape me and he's keeping me locked up in his house and-"

"Oh come off it," England replied miserably. America was one for dramatics so even the most ridiculous, farfetched story would not be beneath him as long as he had an excuse for why he hadn't done what he was supposed to do. "Look, if you're out, just tell me. You don't have to come up with some elaborate excuse-"

"It's not! Arthur, I'm being serious! I haven't been home in-Fuck, Russia's coming-Listen! Cal is there! He's tricking you! Russia, no! Shit-Lemme go! Arthur! If you can hear me I'm-ouch! Get off! I'm at Russia's! I'm trapped! help me! No-wait I-!"

Then the line went dead.

Arthur stared at the phone incredulously. That was certainly a disturbing phone call…

He shook his head and placed the phone back on its dock. What one earth was he going on about? "Who the bloody hell is Cal?" he said aloud without quite meaning it.

"What?"

England glanced up and saw America in the doorway with his eyes bulged out and his jaw set. England's brow furrowed at the site of the other country looking very…nervous. Did he think he could get away with such a stupid lie? "Well! Nice of you to show yourself! Mind telling me the meaning of all this?"

America only gawked at him, though and Arthur rolled his eyes in frustration. "Now you're speechless? After you went on that whole story about Russia kidnapping you and…Cal? Who is Cal?"

Alfred's mouth began working like he was speaking but no words came out as he tried to create a reason for his ridiculous phone call.

Arthur's mouth suddenly upturned into a taunting smile and he let out a laugh when he thought he came up with the reason. "Wait-did you put a C in front of Al? Is that how you came up with it? You're such a child! Who is that supposed to be? Some alter ego?"

America's horrified expression suddenly relaxed considerably and he let out a light chuckle. "Yeah… Exactly. An alter ego…"

England shook his head again. "You're an idiot, Alfred. Why would you do that? You purposely tried to make me worry just so you wouldn't have to eat my food? If you were going to come up with any story, at least come up with something believable!"

Alfred's smile slowly grew into a wicked smirk and he shrugged. "Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking… Hey, since you're so upset, want me to make you some food? I could make-"

"No! I am sick of your talk all about food! I don't want any of it! I'm going to my study and get some work done! I don't care what you do; just don't break anything!" He spun around and tromped off to his study for some peace and quiet so he could brood without being bothered. The bloody wanker had the gall to laugh as England stormed away.

England dropped his head in his hands. Why did this have to be so bloody awful? When he imagined him and America being together he pictured them...happy. Not manipulative and depressed. Arthur could only justify Alfred's behavior because of what was going on across the ocean; poor boy must be feeling like utter shit. The CSA was getting uncomfortably close and England could hardly tell the difference. Each soldier looked the same as the next; it wasn't like the first civil war with lines and flags and boarders-this was bloody and gruesome. Women and children joined in and there was hardly a place to hide as the Confederates took over each fort one after the other. Arthur tried to hide that information from Alfred that the South was taking over America. It was obviously what America was worried about at the start of all this chaos and England hated to admit it was true and unfortunately it was partially Arthur's fault. If he hadn't insisted on Alfred living with him for his own selfish needs than perhaps America would be able to get out of this mess himself.

England didn't quite remember the Confederate personally. He had been constantly asking England for help but due to America's persistence to ignore him, England refused to give him much assistance. That was when Alfred and Arthur were under awkward terms and it broke Arthur's heart right in two when Alfred was hardly talking to him (or was Arthur hardly talking Alfred? He didn't even remember anymore.) From what he did recall, the CSA was like America but seemed more polite with that southern twang in his voice that Alfred only had on certain occasions. The Confederates also seemed rather stubborn; more so than Alfred, which was surprising but a bit frightening at the same time. His persistence was what made him so intimidating. Alfred was constantly going on about how the South wasn't a subject of worry but it turned out that America was taken aback by how forceful his alter ego could be.

Arthur massaged his temples with a frustrated sigh. Even back when Alfred was suspicious over everyone he wasn't this…rude. It's almost as if Alfred was someone else completely; and what was with that phone call? Why would he bother to try and make Arthur worry? It must have been one of his silly pranks. What was he going on about?

"Cal…" He snorted to himself and rubbed his forehead. "Who is that supposed to be?"

_Some alter ego?_

Arthur's eyes shot open.

_Exactly._

o0o

Alfred woke up in complete darkness with another splitting headache rattling through his brain. He tried to touch his temples but found his arms were bound behind his back and a sense of panic washed through him.

_Where am I?_

Slowly but surely his mind started piecing things together. After he called Arthur, Russia started coming after him. There was a struggle-he remembered that part. Had he been knocked unconscious? Yes…obviously he had been. It was probably another whack with Ivan's pipe, his aching head decided. Alfred barely remembered being hit; then again, it wasn't as if he wanted to.

"Russia?" he called out timidly hoping to get some kind of an answer because his eyes were not adjusting to this darkness. There was shuffling, a giggle and the scraping of metal across concrete.

"Da?"

America growled at the all too cheery voice that greeted him. Russia certainly took pleasure in making him miserable. "_Now_ where did you take me?" America demanded as he now realized he was in fact blindfolded.

"Can't you tell?" There was a smile in Russia's voice followed by a giggle at the sight of America's clearly angry expression.

"Piece of shit," Alfred grumbled and started kicking his unbound legs out to try and see how far Russia was sitting from him. One ankle was caught in a relatively strong grip that squeezed too tightly for America's comfort. "What the hell? If you didn't want me talking to England why did you-Ow! Let go!"

Ivan did as requested and released America's aching ankle before finally answering, "Well, I was curious myself as to what he would say. It's obvious now the CSA is with England which certainly changes a few things. And now that we are going to war-"

"What?" Alfred sat up straight in his restricted area. "War? Who's going to war? Over _what_?"

Russia pressed his lips together in a line to hold back another giggle at America's confusion. "China and Japan are on the move. They have contacted me and they are setting to attack France first. He is so weak anyway-Oof!" This time when America flung his legs out he managed to connect with Russia's knee without the country catching him.

"You stay away from France!" He snarled viciously and desperately tried pulling out of his restraints.

This time Russia didn't bother hiding the smile that was broad in his voice. "Ah, but I am not the one after France. That would be your dear friend Japan, da? I, on the other hand, have so stealthily captured your capital."

"_WHAT_?" America shouted feeling the bindings loosen due to all his struggles. He couldn't believe how incredibly weak he was getting; just what exactly was going on back at home? "WHY? How are you against the Confederates and against ME? Just what the hell are you doing Russia?"

There was a pause and once again America heard more scraping against the floor and footsteps tapping. It seemed to be coming from all over and Alfred assumed he was being circled like a shark with its prey. The thought made him uneasy.

"Well, America," Russia began in a soft tone that was coming in and out as he walked. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm now all alone in this big house of mine. It's just me… The Baltics are gone. They have left me. Belarus never visits me anymore either. Ukraine…well, she hasn't improved throughout the years. In fact, we only distanced even more during our years. As I slowly started slipping into madness from all these new rebellions my people have been boldly participating in." Suddenly Russia's wicked voice was right in America's ear and he hadn't even noticed the country approaching. "Have you heard of them, podsolnechnik? These have become very common, now. In fact, so common and so fierce, it's practically ripping me apart. They are rioting frequently. Znaete li vy , chto Amerika? Ili vy byli nastolʹko pogruzheny v sobstvennye problemy, ne volnuet to, chto ostalʹnoĭ mir perezhivaet ? Razve eto ne to , kak Amerika? Chtoby bytʹ takim egoistichnym-"

"Russia, Russia! Stop it! I have no idea what you're saying! If you want to yell at me, damn it, do it in English so I can understand it!" America writhed relentlessly in the chair until Russia's firm grip clamped on his shoulders to hold him in place.

Russia laughed-not childishly like he usually did, this was cold hearted and cruel. It reminded Alfred of a wolf looking onward at its cornered prey. "YA znayu, vy ponimaete russkiĭ yazyk."

It took a moment but perhaps it was in pure terror that America was able to understand that one sentence. _I know you can understand Russian_. "Oh, Christ, Russia, yeah! I know a little bit! But for fuck's sake! Speak _English_!"

With an annoyed sigh Ivan let his grip up and there was the sound of tap, tap, tap echoing around the room. "I started thinking to myself…I used to be so powerful. Do you remember, podsolnechnik? I used to be feared and no one dared to defy me. Even you were timid when I was around. Now I am hardly anything. Now… YA soshel s uma."

Yes, Alfred caught on to that. _I have lost my mind._ "So…what? That's supposed to be my fault?"

America immediately stiffened when he felt Ivan's cheek nuzzle against him in a much too loving gesture. "Da," he purred into Alfred's ear. "You're the only one who challenged me and kicked me off my throne. Now, I am alone. I ya tak ochenʹ odinoko ..."

_And I am so very lonely…_ Alfred gulped and flinched away from Ivan's face pressed against him.

"You see, Alfred, I want you to myself. If you are part of me, think how powerful I will be. Everyone will have to fear me again. Won't that be nice?"

"No! No that'll suck! Russia you are fucked up!" America managed to slip his hand free and tried to blindly hit Ivan but his wrist was caught in a vice like grip and a low chuckle was heard from the other nation.

"Not this time, podsolnechnik."

Something cold and hard met with Alfred's temple in a hard crack and once again Alfred blacked out.

**A/N**: The parts I translated in the actual documented are translated there because it's actually relevant to the conversation. That's why some are translated and others aren't.

Translation:

Znaete li vy , chto Amerika?-Did you know that, America?

Ili vy byli nastolʹko pogruzheny v sobstvennye problemy, ne volnuet to, chto ostalʹnoĭ mir perezhivaet ? Or were you so caught up in your own problems you did not care what the rest of the world was going through?

Razve eto ne to , kak Amerika? Chtoby bytʹ takim egoistichnym- Isn't that just like America? To be so selfish-

Podsolnechnik-sunflower

Also! The ending was written pretty fast because I'm going out right now I jst really wanted to update this!


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**: Guys this was REALLY hard to get started because its Easter holiday now and I thought it would be super easy to get it done especially since I was so excited to write this chapter but I had almost no time to myself and what time I did have-I mostly slept.

Also, I can't write fight scenes. Hope you enjoy some action anyway!

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><p>England slid into the kitchen and peered into the other room where "Cal" was sitting in front of the TV. The news was on to announce Japanese forces were on the move but UK was unsure of Japan's target while war continued to rage unsuccessfully in the US. A smirk tugged at Cal's lips as he watched the television from over the rim of his-<em>Alfred's<em>-they belonged to _Alfred_-glasses. Things were piecing together for England and he felt sick to his stomach. Of course. He couldn't tell the difference between CSA and USA troops because he obviously couldn't tell the difference between Cal and Alfred. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He leaned against the doorway with a forced smile plastered on his lips. "Alfred," he said trying his best not to maul the man in his presence for impersonating his sweet America.

Cal barely graced him with a glance over his shoulder. "Mm."

Arthur pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yeah, sure that'd be great, Arthur."

_HOW DARE YOU USE MY NAME AND SIT THERE LIKE I'M YOUR FUCKING MAID? I SHOULD WRING YOUR NECK_, Arthur screamed in his mind. "Alright. I'll go make a quick cup," came out of his mouth instead.

England stood at the counter glaring viciously at the coffee maker. He should murder that man. He should dig out his old musket and stab him right through the throat. Pin him to the wall and watch him squirm as he prays for a death that will never come and England will stand there grinning with a warm cup of tea in his hands and Alfred's glasses on his forehead that he protected from the blood that squirted from Cal's wounds. These are _Alfred's_ so get them off your ugly fucking face-he fought tooth and nail for your independence and you sit there with your smug grin to try and destroy him-well you don't look so smug now with your brains smeared all over the wall now, do you?

The loud beep from the coffee maker snapped England from his angry day dreams and he tried to steady his shaky hands to pour the hot liquid into a mug.

"Here, Alfred." England stood in front of the TV with the steaming cup of coffee held out for the imposter on his couch. Now that he was really looking, he could see a few slight differences; Cal's part was on the opposite side, his skin was tanner, and his eyes were just a shade darker than Alfred's. Alfred always had the pretties eyes; full of life and happiness. Cal looked to be the opposite.

"Thanks Artie-Shit! Dude!" At the sound of his nickname, Arthur let the mug slip accidentally from his hand and splash steaming liquid all over Cal's pants and sufficiently burning the man.

Arthur stared blankly as Cal attempted to clean himself up. "...oh. Apologies. I wasn't holding on tight enough." _Don't you DARE ever call me that you fucking piece of shit._

"No shit you weren't," he growled and stood up to let the coffee dribble down his front. When he noticed England's stare though, his expression softened and he reached out a hand and cupped the older nations cheek. "Hey, since I'm taking these off anyway, we could-"

A firm hand met Cal's face in a loud smack that knocked his glasses off.

He held his warm cheek and stared at England with wide eyes. "Ar...Arth-"

"You will NOT use my name," he snarled, fists clenched in pure rage. "Nor will you touch me with your slimy hands." It was enough. England could not hold in how pissed he was at Cal for tricking him and pretending to be innocent America and just _stand_ there like nothing at all was amiss.

Cal raised a questionable eyebrow at England's odd behavior. "What the hell was that dude?"

"Don't call me dude either."

"Fine. No more sex for you."

England made a very obvious grimace while his fists were visibly quivering. "Like I'd ever want you to touch me, _Cal_."

Silence quickly filled the space between them with tension that spread like wildfire, so thick you could drive a knife through it. Cal straightened himself up and grinned. "So. Ya'll figured it out. Took ya long enough."

So he had been hiding that bloody twang in his voice this whole time. England thought it was the most disgusting sound he had ever heard.

"I was waiting for that damn yank to finally get a hold of you."

That was when England launched himself at Cal.

They slammed into a wall with grunts and growls, fists and knees and teeth sinking into each other until Cal managed to kick England off him and Arthur stumbled back with an "oof."

"Where's Alfred?" He demanded from the fraud who still trying to catch his breath against the wall.

"Hell if I know," Cal panted, "I didn't touch your precious-"

A sickening crunch sounded when Arthur's fist connected to Cal's face. "Liar!"

Cal held his face and his surely broken nose, shooting death glares at Arthur. "I ain't lyin'," he retorted gruffly. "I came with the intent on takin' him but he wasn't here. Made my job a helluva lot easier."

He grunted when Arthur's grip was suddenly around his throat and shoving the taller man against the wall. Their strength was matched, Cal possibly being stronger, but Arthur was so angry and all the adrenaline rushing through him made it possible to hold a steady grip on Cal.

"What do you want with Alfred? What were you planning on doing with him?"

Cal clawed at England's arms to try and loosen the grip on him so he could at least squeak out his answer. "...hate..."

"What?"

"...hate…'im." He coughed to as he pushed at Arthur's hand to at least get more air. "…I hate him." Another cough escaped his throat and he managed to raise his voice to a low wheeze, "HATE him! He thinks he's so great! Well he's lost it! He doesn't know what he's doing anymore! He got recognized! He got to be a superpower! Well he _fucked up_! He ruined himself! He goes around orderin' people what to do! Acts like he rules the fuckin' world then takes credit for everyone! And you! You're no better! You _encourage_ him! Ya'll encourage him! You stroke his ego one bit at a time! Has he forgotten? Have you _ALL_ forgotten? He defeated you! America won the revolutionary war! Why're ya still stickin' around? Why do you still care? I asked you for help! I did all I could! I wanted to fix my country! It was mine! It IS mine! But ya'll didn't wanna to upset _ALFRED_! Can't hurt _ALFRED'S_ feelin's, now, can we? Since he's such a fuckin' delicate FLOWER!" Cal kicked out when he realized England's grip loosen from the intensity of his confession. The toe of his shoe hit Arthur's gut and the older nation released his grip to hold himself, only to receive a fierce blow right to his abdomen. Arthur crumpled to his knees with one arm wrapped around his stomach while he coughed and gasped for air.

Cal was hovering over him with his voice raising to a yell, "You think just because you act nice to him he'll come crawlin' back? Is that what you think? You get to control America again? Well he's mine now! I will destroy United States and soon there will be NO-MORE-_ALFRED_!" The heel of his boot smashed into England's temple and the man toppled over. He tried scurrying away to find some kind of weapon to protect himself but Cal pressed his foot heavily on Arthur's back to keep him pinned.

"By the way, I don't know how current ya'll are on the news, but Japan and China made a treaty with me. They're already goin' after France since he'll be an easy target. After that, they're goin' for Italy because they know he'll join my alliance just to keep himself safe. Then they'll come for Alfred. We've already got the Middle East on our side. God knows they ain't happy with the past they had with the US. When they see us attack, they'll come after him too. It'll be a world war 3. Won't that be _fun_? You can't protect Alfred forever. Maybe it's finally time you recognize me? Treat me like your sweet little Alfie instead? That way ya'll be safe. And let's face it, England certainly isn't the same as it used to be. You're getting too old."

Arthur let out deep pants to catch his breath. "Fuck you. You're not a country and you never will be. Alfred will kill you like he did before."

There was a bestial growl and a kick to the back of his head. England was seeing spots.

"NO! I'll beat him this time! This time I'll win! I'll win and bring this country to how it used to be! Then you'll have to recognize me!"

England chuckled. "Even so, you'll never be a country. Nothing like Alfred. You're just a jealous brat-"

There was another kick to the side of his head this time and a scream of anger from Cal. "NO! NONONONO!" With each shout he delivered a harsh blow to England's body-his face, his side, his head with a final stomp on his back. "You _WILL_ recognize me! Even if I have to force you to!"

England groaned from the brutish way his body was being treated. His ears were ringing so he couldn't even concentrate on what Cal was even saying and stars were dotting his wobbling vision. All that was apparent to Arthur was Cal screaming like a child who didn't get his way and the thought made him snicker again.

"What are you laughing at?" Cal snapped gripping Arthur's hair and forcing his head up.

"You," Arthur answered, raspy and grinning mockingly.

An inhuman growl came from Cal and he smashed England's face into the cold, hard floor. "Fuck you, Arthur! You're just a lonely old man who can't let go of the past! You're holding on to something that doesn't even exist anymore! The United States is _done_! It's time for you to accept it! Besides! Russia has him anyway and we know-"

Arthur's eyes snapped open. _Of course! Of course! Alfred _himself_ told me where he was!_ He stopped listening to Cal; not that the younger man was very interesting to listen to anyway. Instead, England was doing his best to sit up even though Cal's grip tightened and was tugging at his hair painfully. His whole body ached; nonetheless, England managed to pull himself up and shove his palm flat against Cal's chin. It didn't do much except loosen his grip and allow England to roll away to his study that was right down the hall. His body protested when he got to his feet to hurry to the door while Cal was hurrying over. In a few strides, England knew Cal would be right against Arthur, but the older nation managed to squeeze past the door and grab his handgun he kept stored on his shelf for such an occasion. Cal grabbed his shirt from behind and slammed him against the opposing wall without seeing what Arthur held in his hands. He gaped slightly at the weapon and heard the sharp click of the safety while Arthur stood against the wall, grinning.

With a pull of the trigger the bullet shot clear through the other man.

Cal fell to the ground with the blood leaking out of his chest and on to England's floor. His eyes were wide open and he was still gasping and coughing, but for now Arthur knew the nuisance wasn't going anywhere. He sighed as he looked onward at Cal.

"You're getting my floor dirty," he stated and grabbed the boy's ankles to drag him into the study. After finding some thick rope, Arthur proceeded to bound Cal's wrists and ankles very similar to how he did in his pirating days. He shut the bleeding man in a closet and bolted the door shut. "That should keep him occupied for the time being." A simple shot through the chest wasn't going to kill Cal, Arthur knew. He just needed the boy incapacitated until he could find Alfred. If he was at Russia's, that would take some time. Arthur doctored his wounds then made his way out the door in a hurry to reach the other country. War was going to start with or without Cal but he hoped it at least wouldn't be as serious.

Before he left though, Arthur noticed Alfred's glasses still on the floor. He snatched them up delicately and folded them into his pocket like they were the last remaining parts of his dear Alfred.

o0o

Russia watched the news with more interest. England was gaining the upper hand over the Confederates. "Will I get a visit from you soon, England?" he thought out loud and shot a glance at the door into his basement where he was presently keeping Alfred. The boy was becoming too much of a bother to let roam the house anymore. Eventually, he would come to understand Ivan. He would have to, if he ever wanted to see sunlight again. "I suppose we will have to see what comes next," Ivan said with a large grin plastered across his face as he stretched his arms out.

He grabbed a plate filled with food and a glass of water then descended down the steps. Alfred must be starving by now. Ivan let himself giggle.

_Yes, things will certainly become very interesting very soon._


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**: Guys you are the BEST! Thanks so much for your support and sticking with me and your awesome reviews! And even those who don't review, you're awesome too!

OH! I went to Sakura Sunday/Cherry Blossom Festival whichever you want to call it-and my friend was CSA and I couldn't stop giggling because no one recognized her except…Italy. XD BUT she totally got a picture with England! It made my whole day c:

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><p>It was evening by the time England arrived in Moscow and was standing outside Russia's massive home. He couldn't help but glower when he thought of Alfred in the awful Russian's clutches. What was happening? Ivan wouldn't...try anything, right? Russia didn't think of Alfred that way. But then again...Russia was losing it... He might not be thinking at all. Arthur's eyes widened with worry and he pushed himself through the shrubbery in front of the house and pressed his face against the window. Surely, he could be able to make out something-<p>

"Pryvet, comrade."

England's head swung around to see Russia standing at his front door with a big grin spread across his face only a foot away from England.

"Eh-" England cleared his throat and straightened himself before turning and meeting the larger country's gaze. When did he get outside? How long had he been standing there? England never even heard the door open! "Good evening, Russia. I was-just...uh-"

"Come in, please," Russia said and waved for England to follow him into the house.

The house was unbearably quiet. England knew Russia had no one else living with him anymore and the relationship with his sisters was shit, but something was terribly eerie. The house looked like it hadn't been redecorated in the last 100 years; and why was it so dark and dreary?

Russia was preparing tea in the kitchen and allowing England to watch from the doorway. The tension was obvious but both were being rather polite towards the other even though they were incredibly suspicious for good reason.

"I'm afraid I don't have much cream and sugar to offer right now, but I hope it is to your liking anyway."

"That's quite alright. I don't need it."

"Khorosho. We should sit, da?"

They sat in opposing couches, awkwardly watching each other with the clock being the only source of sound echoing throughout the foreboding house.

"Well, might as well get on with it," Russia said finally as he smoothed out his pants with his palms.

England almost choked on his tea. "E-excuse me...?"

"You are here for America, da? We might as well stop the pleasantries and get on with it."

Always the gentleman, Arthur would have preferred a more gracious transition but at least there was no rubbish here. "Yes. I suppose that would be better..."

"Da. For me. You might want to reconsider your luck." Russia pulled his pipe out from beside the couch and tapped it against the coffee table. It left cracks in the glass.

Damn Russia. Damn Russia. Damn _Russia_. England had a sporting chance with the CSA but he didn't think he'd be able to hold off this giant country who liked to fight dirty. "Now, now. Before we jump to anything, why not make a negotiation?"

The pipe stopped its insistent tapping as Russia listened with interest. "Mm... Go on."

"Well. Why not a trade? CSA will gladly assist in whatever...scheme you're doing. I'll take America, keep him locked away in my home-control his armies, everything. He won't even get in your way. The Confederates will be much more valuable to you anyway-"

Russia at first giggled then burst into loud laughter that shook his body and England as well. It reminded him of hail batting at a window in a harsh storm. "Mne zhalʹ, Angliya. I could not help but laugh! Do you understand what you are saying? You call me a monster-I can see it in your face. Yet, you stand here making negotiations to hand over another poor soul into my clutches. Tell me, where is America's counterpart?"

England felt very embarrassed to answer but nonetheless, held his head high and glared. "I had to have him incapacitated. He was-"

Russia laughed again, smashing his pipe into the glass of the table, sending shards everywhere. England wasn't sure if that was on purpose or not but he flinched out of the way anyway. "We are not so different, da? We both are old, old men, we both hunger for power over something-anything in our desperate attempt to prove to the world we are as great as we used to be, we even hold same person-...how did you put it? 'Incapacitated'-"

At that, England jumped to his feet and snatched Russia's shirt collar, dragging him across the glass to shout in his face. "WHERE IS AMERICA? I swear to _GOD_-"

"And we both have the same temper apparently-"

"_What did you do to him_?" England seethed. He was seeing red; if Russia had touched Alfred. If he so much as laid _one_, fat finger on his precious Alfred-

Russia only continued snickering, though, with that crazed look in his eye. "I want to hear England, you have also taken advantage of your captive America, da? I know I didn't wait long to-"

Without Russia realizing, England had snatched up that damn pipe right out of Russia's grip and proceeded to smash the man's skull with it.

Ivan fell to the ground, first smacking his head against the broken table. He chuckled darkly and turned his face to look at England through his distorted vision. "See? We are not so different. We are both old and violent men. Just look at that blood lust in your eye."

England's grip on the pipe in his hand turned his knuckles white; he knew it was dangerous to use physical violence against Russia with the pipe-his own weapon-but he was so angry. "I'm nothing like you," he snarled.

Russia cackled, coughing in the process. "So you say. I suppose it can't be helped. It's in our nature to fight."

England wanted to ignore Russia and just get on with finding Alfred. His eyes wandered relentlessly around the room as if he could see through walls to find America.

"He's in the basement," Russia said. "I must warn you though, he is not the same as when you last saw him." Russia grinned madly at the wall, or perhaps somewhere else completely. "I broke him. He wouldn't play so I had to break him. It was a pity; I had always thought he would be so much fun..."

England dropped the pipe and bolted around the house to find the basement.

The basement was black. It showed absolutely no source of light and England was forced to scale along the wall to make his way down the steps and onto the hard concrete of the floor.

"...Alfred?" he called into the darkness. England was old and used to such darkness but Alfred was just a child; just a small child who was afraid of the dark and must be absolutely terrified here all by himself with the lights off.

When Arthur finally found a thick switch somewhere far from the steps, he flipped it on which lit up a dirty light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. It hardly lit up the room but was enough to show a body slumped in the far corner.

"Alfred...?" Arthur continued calling the boy's name but there was no answer or even a stir. Russia's voice replayed over and over. _I broke him. I broke him. Ibrokehim. Brokehimbrokehimbrokehim._ Panic set in and England didn't realize how fast he was walking until he was in front of America.

"Oh..Al..."

The clothes Alfred wore-they seemed awfully dirty and let off a smell-looked to be physically weighing him down. The poor boy's head hung against his chest in an awkward position, his arms lying limp at his side and his back was curved in an almost perfect C.

"Alfred..." Arthur reached out a shaking hand and his fingertips barely brushed against the top of his head when Alfred jolted in an upright position, eyes flickering around in pure terror until they landed on Arthur and relaxed. He let out an audible sigh (or more like a breath he had been holding) and stared straight ahead.

His eyes were lifeless. His cheek bones hallow. His hair matted to his sweaty face. He didn't appear to have lost too much weight, but Alfred still seemed so small. Almost like a forgotten doll.

"What did he do to you?"

Alfred didn't answer though and Arthur wandered if he even recognized another being was in the room. "Come on, Al. I'll take you home." He held Alfred's elbow to help him up, but the poor creature just sat there staring continuously where England had been crouching in front of him. Arthur did his best to yank Alfred to his feet but he wouldn't budge; like his legs were broken. So Arthur was forced to put Alfred's arm around his shoulder and heaved upwards so at least he was standing. He didn't cry out or complain or crumple to the floor so Arthur assumed he was able to walk and made the trek up the stairs.

When they reached the living room to exit, Russia sat on the couch among the glass with caked blood in his hair where England struck him. The bastard was carrying on as if nothing was even amiss. Like England wasn't carrying a half-dead America out of his basement.

Arthur didn't want to give him another second in fear he'd seriously bash Russia's face in, but he had to know. "You're just letting us go?"

Russia merely waved a hand and grabbed his newspaper from the couch and flicked it open. "I have no use for America now. He's broken beyond repair and refuses to give in to me. What more can I do? Think of this as a temporary ceasefire until the real war begins. I've made my mark. Everyone realizes what I can do now. I'm still the same see? I can do it. I'm still strong." His lips morphed into a twisted smile and he repeated the words, "I'm still strong" over and over until he realized England was still standing in his home. He smiled at the two pathetic looking countries and repeated, "Like I said England; it is in our nature to fight."

England bowed his head towards Russia because he knew this was not the las time he would see Ivan in the upcoming war. Perhaps it wouldn't be last time he'd be dragging America out of his house, either. God, how he prayed that wouldn't be the case.

In England's car, everything was silent. It was so quiet. America wouldn't speak or move or seem to even register the change of scenery. He just sat in the car staring blankly into the dark night sky.

England decided it was better to find a hotel to stay the night since it was already far into the late evening and he hadn't even scheduled a flight home. The one hotel he did find that would check them in last minute only had one room available with one bed but Arthur assured the receptionist it would be fine and chose to ignore the worried looks she gave Al. Then once again, he hoisted Alfred around his shoulder and practically dragged him into the room.

When America was deposited on the bed, he finally sat himself up and looked around, blinking his dull blue eyes like it was the first time he had seen anything in months. Finally, he gazed up at England who was looking down at him with his heart broken right in two. Arthur's breath caught in his throat at that horribly depressing look he received from Alfred. The older nation fiddled in his pocket for something then delicately pulled out Alfred's glasses and placed them just as carefully on the bridge of Al's nose.

Alfred's back straightened and he blinked a few times while his eyebrows rose curiously. His fingers traced the rims and the glass before tilting his head up to England with the corner of his lips twitching into an attempt at a smile.

"Thank you..."

England swallowed hard and gave a curt nod, staring at some soot on his shirt. "Yes, well. You're welcome. I'm going to get some ice, arli-uf!"

America threw his arms around England in a tight hug, practically crushing the smaller man in his embrace. He buried his face into England's chest to breathe in the smell while Arthur's whole face turned three shades of red. Arthur raised a tentative hand and patted Alfred's head until it turned into soothing strokes to calm down the soft tears he knew America refused to let show. Arthur understood, though and let Alfred stay there until America decided enough was enough and curl back on the bed to try and forget everything. Arthur didn't blame him. He wanted to forget everything too.

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><p><strong>AN:** Next chapter has fluffy fluff and more FLUFF. I know. You guys are disappointed…

PS, just so you know, I actually love Russia. All this hating on him is to express my love~

Translations: khorosho-good

Mne zhalʹ, Angliya-I'm sorry England


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N**: I am SO SORRY this took way longer than I intended! I can't even say I had a lot to do I was just being lazy! I'm so sorry!

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><p>England returned to the room with a bucket of ice in his arms and made sure to dead bolt the door when he entered. He usually didn't worry too much about hotels but tonight he felt it necessary to take precautions. With the world falling into a war over America, it was important to keep said country safe at all times. England rather liked the responsibility anyway; it reminded him when America was still his colony.<p>

When he stepped in to the room, Arthur noticed America was curled on the bed with his back facing the door. The poor boy almost appeared to be quivering. "Alfred," England spoke as if nothing was amiss. Al would prefer it that way. "You should change. Those clothes are filthy and disgusting."

There was a snort (and possibly a small sniff) then Alfred's quiet reply, "Anything to get my clothes off, huh?"

Arthur almost dropped his ice as his cheeks burned with a blush. "Wh-what are you going on about? You're going to stink up the sheets! I have to sleep there too you know, and I don't want-"

America turned towards him and smiled. "I'm joking, Arthur. Christ, you're such a spas. Anyway, I already took them off." There was a shine to those big blue eyes that Arthur chose not to mention.

He cleared his throat and set the ice on the table, looking away awkwardly. "Oh... Well good then."

But it then occurred to Arthur. He had not brought a suitcase of clothes with him seeing as he hadn't intended to be staying the night and Alfred certainly didn't have any spare clothes he had in his pockets.

"Al..." he spoke nervously.

"Hm?"

"A-are you..."

"What?"

"Are you wearing anything right now...?"

"Oh, no. I didn't have anything. But I couldn't stand my own smell so I took everything off."

Arthur gulped at the thoughts running through his head. Suddenly he was taking much closer notice to how the sheets of the bed clung in such a way to his thick thighs and how right in between-

"Well! We-we should go to bed, shouldn't we? You must be exhausted! And-"

"Arthur?"

The older man hesitated immediately assuming Alfred could read minds. "...yes?"

"Can we leave the lights on?"

His face softened instantly. "... Of course we can." Any perverse thoughts were quickly vanquished as he was now aware of Alfred's vulnerability. He seemed child-like; like in his colony days when America was terrified of the dark and of silly monsters. England wanted so badly to hold him tight just as he did all those years ago and promise him that nothing would ever hurt him again. Unfortunately that was not the case any longer. The only comfort England could give was a warm pat on the shoulder and the promise to keep the lights on so to keep away any kind of monstrous memories the darkness may convey.

0o0

After removing his shoes and allowing himself as much comfort in his usual clothing, Arthur found it very difficult to sleep that night and it wasn't just due to the fact the room was so lit up. Of course-of course they would find the last room with only one bed.

And America was sleeping in all his pride and glory.

Obviously, out of respect, England lay on top of the sheets since Alfred had already curled himself up so tightly under the blankets. Still. It didn't help that America so rudely fell asleep first leaving England in this awful predicament.

"Look at you," he grumbled as he turned on his side, watching Alfred sleep peacefully. "Don't you look comfortable? As if you don't have a care in the world." Oh, but he did, Arthur knew. It must have been a while since Alfred had a decent sleep-even before he was in Russia's home. The poor child was constantly haunted by nightmares, if Arthur remembered correctly, and it was a surprise that Alfred wasn't tossing around at the moment, already.

Arthur sighed sadly and brushed off a piece of Alfred's hair. "I wish I could make this all go away," he said out loud. He wasn't sure why; but it felt much better to get the confession out in the open even if no one heard. Now he was leaning on his elbow closer to his ward, absently running his finger through the dirty blonde hair. "I just want to protect you, Alfred. That's all I wanted. You mean so much to me, no matter what I might say. You are so special..."

Arthur let out another sigh but shook his head and rolled over away from the boy. "I'm torturing myself," he grumbled. Speaking to Alfred asleep was almost as painful as never saying anything at all. He was just so close; literally within reach, yet so very far away.

There was no way Arthur could sleep tonight. He decided it was best if he just give up altogether. Instead, the old nation sat up and looked around the room for anything to do. There was no reason to turn on the television (he wouldn't understand a blessed thing anyway) and the small space held nothing out of the ordinary that could be used a source of entertainment. Perhaps he could find something to eat or-

"Where are you going?"

Arthur turned sharply to see Alfred sitting up and rubbing his bleary eyes with the butt of his palm just as Arthur was about to step into his shoes. _He must have heard me get up,_ he realized.

"Ah...I couldn't sleep. I was just going to go for a walk, maybe."

America would have none of that and patted the spot England had presently removed himself from. "No, no. Don't leave. I want you to stay with me." It was more of an order.

Arthur's heart thumped hard against his chest as he slowly made his way back to the bed but wouldn't sit down. "Al, I'm not just going to lie around while you sleep," he said firmly.

"Then…I'll stay awake, too."

Arthur scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, avoiding the perfect view he had of that dip in Alfred's collar bone. "Don't be stupid. You need your sleep."

"Arthur."

Said person glanced down to see the younger man folding his arms stubbornly; the sheets fell precariously from his chest and barely covered his hips. "I'm not sleeping if you won't either."

Arthur let out a shaky breath and waved his hand. "Fine, fine! You're so bloody stubborn! But come tomorrow if you're tired I don't want to hear you complaining!" Alfred made it a point to smile triumphantly at England's face. England was such a pushover when it came to America, he always said yes.

After much debate over seating arrangements, England found himself sitting in the single chair across from the bed, watching America entertain himself with a deck of cards they managed to find in one of the drawers. Every so often the sheets would tug and show off a bit more skin and England would do his very best not to peak in hopes he could see more.

That would be so rude.

"Hey, Arthur?" Al suddenly spoke up amid the endless silence that filled that room.

Arthur's eyes snapped back to Alfred's face. "Mm?" Thankfully, the boy's head was still down so he wouldn't notice Arthur's continuos strain to view the younger man's lower hips.

"Why didn't you come sooner?"

The silence that followed was thicker than the first. "Well..." England cleared his throat and crossed his legs. "Well, Alfred. I didn't realize you were gone. The Confederates had replaced you-"

"So it was Cal..." Alfred sighed and concentrated on the deck before him.

"Yes. Thanks to your phone call, Cal-er. By the way, I've been meaning to ask. Who came up with his name?"

"I did."

"Where in god's name did you get Cal?"

"Well he kept calling himself Alfred. But he's not Alfred that's me. So-"

"So _Cal_."

"Yep. We compromised."

"...Whatever." England rested his cheek on his palm and carefully watched the young country before him, concentrating so intensely on the game he created. Aside from the refusal of being left alone and reasonable fear of the dark, America was doing a fairly decent job at hiding any kinds of feelings. England was sure the boy would have questions; at least be a bit more talkative. But there was nothing.

It unnerved England.

"Alfred," Arthur finally spoke, the curiosity slipping into his tone as the other nation glanced up from his cards with eyebrows raised, urging England to continue. "I...ah… Are you alright?"

America snorted and looked back down, his glasses sliding down his nose to rest at the tip. "Do you think I'm alright?"

England felt slightly self-conscious and pulled on his sleeves. "Hm. No, I didn't really think you were. But you're being rather…calm."

"Well, what do you want me to do? Scream? Cry? Pound on the walls?" He let out a sad sigh and pushed the frames back to their appropriate spot atop his nose. "I appreciate you saving me, I really do. But right now… I can't do much but sit here. I have no idea what's going on with the other countries, my people are raging a violent war against each other, the one being that I thought was gone forever is alive and right now I'm sitting in a cheap motel in the middle of Moscow without any clothes to wear. What do you want me to do, Arthur?"

England was speechless; Alfred was reserved when he first arrived at his home but now the poor thing looked completely…

_Broken._

Ivan's voice rang through his head and Arthur shivered involuntarily.

It was then Arthur came to really look Alfred over. His beloved, dearest Alfred who once was a colony under him. The very same who tossed around bison, defeated empires in battle and the only man brave (and stubborn) enough to face Russia head on; the country everyone looked to for freedom and dreams and the land of hope. He was the pure personification of believing in yourself and never backing down no matter how hard the challenge. He was America.

Yet, the boy sat in a strange bed, naked, pathetically playing with a deck of cards.

Honestly, it made Arthur rather pissed off.

He stood up and in only two strides was standing over the bed glaring down at America then snatched whatever card Alfred was holding in his hands getting a whine of protest. Arthur raised his hand and promptly slapped Alfred on the side of his head.

"What do I want you to do? _What do I want you to do?_" Arthur snapped. "I want you to get off your lazy arse! You're America! The United Fucking States! You sit here and expect me to _pity_ you? After all the time I've told you not to jump right in to things, you choose now to hold back? Get up! No one is going to help you if you mope! Do what you did hundreds of years ago and claim your bloody land for god's sake!"

All Alfred could do was stare at England, completely speechless. His mouth hung open like a dead fish as he began to comprehend what was just said-no, _yelled_-at him from the man that always complained of his constant antics. Now England was encouraging him to act irrationally. It was something Alfred had wanted to hear for hundreds of years.

Without any warning at all, the young nation flung his arms around his former caretaker's waist and buried his head in Arthur's shirt, receiving a small sound of surprise from the older man. "Thanks, England. I guess you're right. Nothing's going to get done if I sit around and do nothing," he admitted as he rested his chin on Arthur's chest to look up at him.

Arthur rolled his eyes but couldn't stop a small smile tugging at his mouth. "Of course not. Did you think everything would just fix itself on its own? You're such an idiot."

Alfred laughed loudly to hide a small sniffling sound. "Yeah, I guess I am pretty dumb, huh?"

England shut his eyes and after a moment shook his head. "No, Alfred. It was only a joke. You aren't stupid at all. You're very bright actually." He sighed and brushed away Alfred's hair from his face so he could better see those beautiful blue eyes. "It frightens countries because it's obvious you know what you're doing. Although it breaks my heart…I'm very proud of you."

Alfred's brow furrowed in confusion and he didn't get to complete his statement of "What-" before he found Arthur leaning his lips against his own; pressing on them with an utmost urgency and longing.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N**: Yes, Cal is short for Confederate Alfred. I was actually going to make something more original as a name, but Cal got in my head and I started giggling thinking it sounded so silly! Thinking 'what a silly name that would be!' …but then it wouldn't leave my head.

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><p>Alfred thrust his arm between him and England's body and shoved the older man away from him. Arthur stumbled back, tripping on Alfred's filthy shirt and fell to land on his backside with a soft thump.<p>

"You wanker! What the hell was that for?" he snapped while feeling himself blush at such a strong response from his ex-colony.

Alfred was gasping and Arthur could not help but adore that sweet red color that tinged his cheeks. "You-! What was _that_? You just-you just-!"

Arthur pursed his lips slightly and got to his feet smoothly although kept his gaze averted from America. "Yes, well. I suppose I did. Sorry it was so god-awful for you," he huffed as he wiped away imaginary dust from his slacks that were now hanging loose from his waist without the aid of his belt he so carelessly tossed aside earlier. England made a complete fool of himself and now the awkwardness of the situation was settling in causing him to practically choke on the atmosphere. He nearly threw himself out the window from embarrassment until he heard America speak up,

"No, no! It's not that! It's just-I wasn't…it was so…you just-!"

One large eyebrow hiked up England's forehead. "…very eloquent, Alfred."

Alfred ran a hand through his already messy hair while biting at his lower lip and that splendid splash of red across his face. "You-you're trying to take advantage of me," he managed to spill out. It wasn't a question, either. It was America's final resolution; England had been taking advantage of him this whole time to gain power over him. He got the idea from France and then Russia. Everyone wanted him. America was convinced England's motives were no different, just more heart breaking.

The sentence shot Arthur right through the chest like a speeding arrow. It almost caused him to stumble once more but instead he leaned forward and gripped on to the sheets of the bed trying to ignore how Alfred visibly shifted away from Arthur's close proximity.

"What? Alfred, no! Don't be so bloody stupid! That isn't the case at all-I would never! Alfred, I raised you! Why would I-! Do you think so little of me?"

Alfred merely shrugged a shoulder and traced a pattern into the thin sheets of the bed. "Well," he began uncharacteristically quiet, "Japan was my friend. Everything's so upside down now. I can't trust anybody."

_Indeed_, England couldn't help but agree with that. While it was true Japan was a good friend of America's and in war one could never trust anyone, England was still hurt. "Alfred, look at me."

America kept his eyes fixed on the small patterns he made on the bed.

"Damn it, boy! I said look at me!"

When only America's eyes flickered in a quick glance, England snatched Alfred's chin and yanked them face to face. Arthur's brow was dropped down in a deep set frown; his green eyes swirling with mixed emotions of hurt and anger. "Alfred, I believe we go a bit farther back than 'friends.' As of right now, I am the only one you can trust. Even after all we've been through, I like to think our relationship holds a bit more meaning than some silly alliance. I raised you and while you are no longer my little brother or simply a young child, you are important to me. Am I not standing here by your side? Did I not just pull your arse from Russia's home? Kept France off your back-Christ, I _always_ kept France off your back-and station my troops in your land to stop this constant onslaught of your people? Everything I do, Alfred, is purely because I care for you. Are you that thick you can't see that?"

As Alfred attempted to form words, he felt Arthur's knuckles softly caress against his cheek. "How," the older man murmured, his voice dropping to a much quieter tone, "How can you not see how much you mean to me, you big oaf?"

Alfred's mouth tried forming meaningless words without any sound to follow so he could make sense of all this. He was in complete shock; did Arthur just confess to him? Did he just open his heart and spill it into his lap? Now that he had it, Al was absolutely clueless as to what to do.

That didn't seem to matter much though, because Arthur tugged his mouth back for another gentle kiss.

Alfred let out a soft whine even as Arthur tried soothing his cries with sweet strokes. Despite his protests, Alfred melted into Arthur's lips and he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to kiss Arthur or he just needed some sort of comfort. Alfred was so frightened and lonely, even a sweet kiss was enough to make him feel better.

But it wasn't quite what Alfred wanted because truth be told, Alfred didn't know what he wanted.

"...Arthur..." he whimpered against persistent lips and nudged on Arthur's chest.

However, England ignored Alfred's cries and refused to budge, save for adjusting himself on the bed so his knees were on either side of Alfred's body.

"No," Alfred whined and gripped hard to Arthur's shoulders and yanked him off. "Arthur, no."

Arthur could feel his heart start ripping, even as his breathing picked up from kissing America. He had wanted to for so long it was easy to get carried away. "Sorry," he grumbled and sat back on his heels though he kept hold of Alfred's wrist so he could leave soft kisses on each digit. Even though he said it, Arthur was certainly not sorry. He would gladly steal more of Alfred's kisses if the boy would just let him.

"Arthur... Arthur, stop..." Alfred delicately pulled his hand away and cradled it to his body. "It's not that... Um. Well-I've been going through such traumatizing experiences. I don't know if I can..."

Arthur's brow furrowed and stopped staring at Alfred's lips. "Can what, Alfred?"

America wasn't able to meet England's gaze this time and instead started fiddling with the sheets. "Ya know. I mean, Russia had me locked up in that basement and would come down and-"

"You think I'm going to fucking rape you?" Arthur blurted out in a vicious snarl. The realization of Alfred's words hit him like a brick wall. "Do you not know me at all?"

"Well…you were a pirate-"

"Keyword _was_! I was also into punk rock, used tons of drugs, among many other things. Am I like that _now_?"

The younger man hunched his shoulders over and answered feebly, "No…"

"Right! Why are you so paranoid? You know me better than that!"

Alfred bit his bottom lip and Arthur watched it turn a dark red tone. "I…I just... I don't know what you want..."

Arthur cupped Alfred's face in his hands with a soft sigh. "I want you, Alfred. I've always wanted you. You know why? Not for your land, not for your resources, not for power, just because it's you. I love you. I've always loved you, bloody wanker."

"... Always?" Alfred squeaked as he was forced to stare into Arthur's intense green eyes.

"Ever since you were the United States. When you proved to me you could be on your own. After I got over the shock of it… You certainly showed me up. I always cared for you. My feelings just…grew because I saw you as a person. Everything about you changed from how you hold yourself and even how you're act like brainless idiot, you still show everyone how clever you really are. I love you, git." He sighed sadly and rested his forehead against Alfred even if it wasn't the most comfortable position. How long had he wanted to say that? How long had Arthur suppressed those words behind his lips, daring to sneak out and pounce on Alfred unexpectedly? He hoped it would be something romantic; they would have a lovely picnic or just be basking in each other's glow or (he imagined this on particularly lonely nights) after making love for the first time and Arthur would let the words break free finally, and Alfred would grin and say he loved him too and they would laugh and love each other. None of Arthur's fantasies composed of him pinning a naked Alfred down on a dirty motel bed in the middle of Moscow, trying to convince the boy that his intensions were not power hungry but purely for the sake of love.

And to Arthur's dismay, Alfred still seemed so unsure.

"You love me..." he repeated slowly and licked his lips as if tasting the words to see if they were sour or sweet.

Arthur was embarrassed to hear them spoken out loud like that. He felt vulnerable; this was not how he wanted things to go. Alfred didn't even say "I love you" back.

"Yes, Alfred, I love you. Alright? If you can't return my affections that's fine; at least I got it out-"

But Alfred pressed a clammy finger to Arthur's dry lips and offered a sloppy little smile.

"Okay," he said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Okay.

Okay? Arthur wasn't sure how to react to that. It wasn't a rejection but...it wasn't an acceptance either.

"... Okay," Arthur repeated. Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck and tugged him down against his body. Arthur had no idea what to make of this. Did Alfred mean he returned the feelings? Or was he just humoring him?

"Arthur...just. Not right now, okay? Just a little longer... Be patient for me, alright?"

Arthur was slightly taken aback but as the words began to sink in, he slowly returned the warm embrace. "Always, Alfred. Until you're ready." Arthur would be patient for as long as it took because it meant that one day Alfred was planning on returning his feelings. It wasn't fair to expect so much of him so soon while America was trying to regain his pride and everything he loved and worked for. England would wait for him because he knew right now all America really wanted was to feel safe and not so alone.

Eventually, the two adjusted themselves so Alfred was under the covers and Arthur's arms were wrapped tightly around the boy's body keeping him close to his chest. The young nation felt almost like a heater and Arthur was worried he might be catching a fever. It wouldn't be a surprise. Enough had gone wrong that it only seemed to fit.

"Good night, Artie," Alfred yawned with his nose pressed into Arthur's wrinkled shirt.

"Good night Alfred," he muttered back and kissed Al's hair, burying his nose in it a bit longer than necessary to breathe in the scent.

Yes, Arthur would be able to handle having Alfred just like this if it meant one day he could have all of him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Alfred was just locked up in a basement with Russia doing god knows what to him! He isn't ready for some sexy times!

... Yet. c;


	17. HIATUS

**TEMPORARY HIATUS**

****This was just a long over due announcement. I've been crazy busy lately. I just finished finals and my graduation is this week then next week I'm going away for a few days then at the end of this month I'm going away for the week. In between that time I have several graduation parties to attend and many other things that need to be done so this month is very busy and I won't be getting back to this story until hopefully beginning of July. I have the next chapter half written but I haven't even gotten on the computer since like...a few days ago. So, yes. You gys probably won't be hearing from for some time...

I _do _have a small oneshot that I finished and that might be something I post later buuut that may or may not happen. Depends.

Alright, sorry guys! See you soon~!


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